THE ABBEY OF BLISS
A TRANSLATION OF
BANKIM CHANDRA CHATTER JEE'S
ANANDAMATH
By
NARES CHANDRA SEN-GUPTA, MA, B.L
Vakil High Court, Calcutta,
Calcutta :
Printed by T. C. Dass at Thk Chkrry Press, and
Published by Padmini Mohan Neoci,
I2i, Dhurrmntolla Street.
Prefatary Note
Though not exactly the originator of Bengali prose litera-
ture, Bankim Chandra, more than any other single person
is entitled to the name of the Father of Bengali prose. Before
him the efforts of Bengali prose literature were in the nature
of experiments in style and trials of its powers and resources.
It was he who for the first time struck out for himself a path
in the matter of style to which Bengali literature has clung
since then with the utmost profit to itself. He tapped the
real source of its greatest strength and opened out a glorious
vista which Bengali literature has since then gone on making
its own.
The writings of Bankim Chandra Chatterji first disclosed
the vast capabilities of the Bengali language. He showed that
it could be simple and natural but not vulgar, and solemn
and serious but not stilted, and with his complete mastery
over the language he demonstrated unmistakeably how it was
capable of expressing all shades of feeling and thought with
force and brilliance and with a variety of expression that
came from its association with the rich Sanskrit vocabulary
on the one hand and the vocabulary of a quick-witted cultured
and resourceful people's dialect on the other. Both these
sources of strength and versatility Bankim Chandra utilised
with the utmost advantage, and the result was a style of
Bengali prose which by its superior charm and elegance, as
well as by its facile expression, has outlived the tentative styles
that flourished before him and has set the model for Bengali
prose ever since.
• *
11
It is likely that in the struggle for existence the Bankim-
ese style received an additional reinforcement from the mass
of very superior literature that was written, mostly by himself
and by others under his editorial guidance in the pages of
his monthly, Bangadarsana. That literature was one of which
any single generation might well be proud — if not for its
volume at any rate for its quality. For the literary works
of Bankim Chandra Chatterji still tower high above the ordinary
run of books and proudly claim comparison, not with the
rest of Bengali prose literature, for such a comparison is very
obviously to its advantage, but with the literature of the world.
In the world of letters Bankim Chandra Chatterji may
fairly claim an honoured place by the side of the greatest
novelists of the world. His genius for fiction was superb and
his execution of his work pre-eminently in his domestic
sketches presents some of the master pieces of the art. It
would be too much to say however that the high level of ex-
cellence is preserved in all his works. On the contrary, it is a
comparatively few of his works that can be said to belong to
the highest rank and there is perhaps only one, the Krishna-
kanids Will } which can be regarded as perfectly faultless.
The whole plot there has been deliberately conceived, the most
artistic touches aptly bestowed and all embellishments
provided, without the slightest redundance or repetition, — it is
in fact a perfect gem among novels and one that is fit to take
its place beside the best of the world's fiction.
For his novels Bankim Chandra has often been compared
with Sir Walter Scott and there is no doubt that the affinity
between them was more than superficial. In style, though
Bankim Chandra did not emulate the heavy tread of Sir
Walter's yet the style of both share the same frank openness
« • »
111
and want of pretensions that serves to stamp it as one
eminently suited for light literature. In their treatment of
men, we find that both are impressed more with the broader
features of human life than with the fine shades of feeling or
thought that come in for the greatest share of the attention of
an Austen, a Dickens or a Thackeray. Bankim Chandra does
indeed display great powers of diving deep into the hearts of
men and women and invites us to witness the play of the nicest
sentiments and thoughts in some of his domestic novels. But
still his great bent was, like Sir Walter's, for the broader
aspects of human character.
Both he and Scott were of a highly romantic temperament
and had a great fancy for adventurers and desperados of the
Robin Hood type. There was a sentimental sympathy with
this sort of characters in both which they could ill reconcile
with their common sense with which both were uncommonly
endowed. In Sir Walter this accounts for his Rob Roys and
his Highland raiders, no less than for the Jacobite tendencies
of his fictions, though he was one of the most loyal subjects
of the Georges. In Bankim Chandra we find this leading him
in enthusiastic assent a long way with bandits and outlaws of
the type of Bhavani Pathak in his Debi Choudhumni and
the Children in his Abbey of Bliss. Even among Children we
find our author doting on the tumultuous and dashing spirit of
Bhavananda more than on the gentler Jivananda. He gloats
on the pranks of the free lances of the Children, such as
burning and ravaging villages and outraging villagers, though
in his heart of hearts he thoroughly condemns such roguery.
Intellectual sympathy with these he has none, and he takes
good care to dissociate himself from this lawlessness ; but even
in seeking to expose the foolishness of Children as he pro-
iv
fesses to do, he forgets himself and almost exults in deeds
which his better sense soon condemns. His mysterious
physician tells us that an empire could not be founded by
robbery, and no good could come out of sin. In the preface he
says that Revolutions are persecutions and revolutionists are
suicides. Hut still, till one comes to the close of it, one does
not feel that the author is not in complete sympathy with the
lawlessness perpetrated by his Children,
Another point in which he strongly resembles Scott
is intense patriotism. There can be no gainsaying the fact
that both were the very best citizens of their respective king-
doms and that both were inspired with a patriotism of the
highest type. Yet the sort of patriotism that strikes their
fancy most is not the patriotism which they themselves breathe.
Scott was a good Britisher but in his writings he is intensely
Scotch. Bankim Chandra too was a good Indian but in his
writings he is most prominently a Bengali. The sort of
patriotism that appeals to his fancy is the local feeling of the
Rajputs for their country and of the Children for mother
Bengal. Intellectually he may have been a citizen of India
and member of the Indian nation but in his inmost heart was
the sentiment of an intensely exclusive Bengali Hindu.
Another accessory of a romantic temperament is its fascina-
tion for the preternatural ; and both Scott and Bankim
Chandra had it to the fullest extent. To Scott however, it
was a mere thing of love and an useful toy, to Bankim Chandra
on the contrary it was a matter of deep seated conviction.
So far there is agreement between the two, but, in one im-
portant respect they differ. It has been said of Scott that he
never had an idea that he was bound to leave the world better
than he found it, yet this was the rooted conviction of Bamkim
V
Chandra, and it was the one with which he set to work. The
aspect of a novelist's function which struck him most was
that of a teacher and never in his writings does he forget his
avocation of a born teacher of his people.
He was well fitted to fill the place. With nature's liberal
endowment was joined in him a sound education in the
literature of the past as well as in the ideas of the new civilisa-
tion which was yet only skimming the surface of Indian life. At
this time English culture was knocking at India's gate and the
vast wealth of India's ancient civilisation was waiting to be
unearthed. The man who would seek to lead the people at
such a time was one who knew how to manage both and could
find a proper scope for the functions of each. Bankim Chandra
was by his education well fitted for the task, for which nature
did not gruge him a generous endowment of genius.
He was one of the earliest and best fruits of English edu-
cation in India and his life-work was a sustained endeavour
to bring about a synthesis of the ideals of the East and
the West in the life of the Indian on lines so eloquently set
forth in the concluding chapter of the present work. It was
this ideal he consistently had in view and it was this lesson
which he has sought to impart in a great many of his novels.
A novelist is always a teacher, but the teacher should not
overshadow the story-teller. This golden rule Bankim Chandra
fairly follows in most of his works. But in his Abbey of Bliss
the teacher is much too evident. The result is assuredly a
great take-off from its merit as a novel per se and, taken as
such, this work is certainly defecient. But it is everywhere too
evident that the author does not care to be taken as a story
teller at all. The story is only the setting. The whole interest
is concentrated in the message that he seeks to impart and
vi
though the story is beautiful enough and its execution on the
whole well worthy of a master's hand, yet it bears patent signs
of haste and careless manipulation, and, in spite of the
cobbling and tinkering that it had during its subsequent edi-
tions there are plenty of oversights that are surprising in the
careful author of Krishna Kanta's Will Redundance too, is
not one of the vices from which our author has taken special
care to defend himself in this work ; situations again are intro-
duced which want explanation and which are inconsistent
with previous statements. The absurd idea of Santi riding a
horse with sari on is perhaps the crowning point of that epi-
demic of slips which seems to have taken hold of our author
in this work.
The fact is that in this work our author was overwhelmed
with the teaching he sought to impart and had very little
attention to spare for the perfection of the details. The story
therefore has very much the appearance of a noble figure,
rough-hewn. All through the narration we notice the breath-
less haste of the author.— They story runs and with it tuns our
author's language, and he is in a desperate hurry to rush it on
and finish. The work therefore partakes very largely of the
nature of a parable, and as a parable of patriotism it has
to be read in order to appreciate its depth of observation and
intensity of feeling.
Even as a parable it has to be viewed from the point
of view of feeling rather than of conception. For the
type of patriotism which our author has here depicted is
certainly not the richest in conception nor well worthy of
emulation. It is its intensity in feeling and its richness in self-
sacrifice that ought to commend it to all right-thinking people.
The reader must however be warned against taking the parable
vii
too literally. Our author's patriotism is not to be identified
with the revolutionary propaganda of his adventurers in the
present work. There is no place for revolution or aggressive
warfare in his scheme of patrotism. Bloodshed and war
Bankim Chandra looked upon as the detestable remnants of
a barbarian age which were bound to pass away. If therefore
he seems to have so much sympathy with revolutionaries of
the type of his Children^ it is not because his common sense
would endorse similar proceedure but because his natural
instincts were largely in sympathy with them. And if there
is one lesson more than any other that he seeks to impart by
his Children it is that revolutionists though foolish are very
often estimable men, inspired with lofty sentiments, and per-
fectly honourable in their conduct. They may fail, but their
failure does not justify the world in branding them as infamous
brigands. On the contrary, we have a great deal to learn
from them. Their earnestness and singleness of purpose,
their tenacity and resourcefulness, their courage in facing the
immense odds that are arrayed against them, not only on the
battle-fleld but everywhere in the existing order of things and
above all their supreme indifference to their own interests, —
these are traits of character which every reformer, every
patriot and every fighter in a noble cause should lay to heart
if he wants to succeed. Our modus operandi must needs be
different from the suicidal path of revolution, our conception
of national welfare and of the goal of national life may be al-
together different, but let us all he inspired with the same sense
of the nobility of our mission and the selfless zeal in serving
the interests of our 'Mother* as the Childre?i.
Two outstanding features of our author's conception
of patriotism are its provincialism and its religious tone. As
m mm
VIU
for the provincialism in his patriotism, it is difficult to believe
that Bamkim Chandra was a stranger to the idea of greater
nationality which is the goal of cultured Indians of to-day.
The explanation is rather to be sought in his romantic tem-
perament which was deeply stirred- by it, as much as was that of
Sir Walter Scott by the parochial patriotism of his Highlanders
and by the Scottish patriotism which even now makes itself
felt in after-dinner orations in the St. Andrews Dinner.
As to the religious tone of his patriotism he perceived that
the strongest sentiment of the Indian, as well as the most
pronounced element in the Eastern civilisation, is the religious
sentiment. To acclamatise Western culture in the Eastern
soil then, we have to dip it full in the well of spiritual-
ism. Nothing in Western culture can take root in the
East unless it is inspired with the religious sentiment. The
attempt to bring about this synthesis led him, not only to
imbue patriotic sentiments with religion but also conceive
nationality itself under the category of religion. He evidently
thought that the only nationality India was capable of was a
religious nationality ; — the sentiment probably which inspires
people who talk about a Hindu Nation and a Mussulman Nation
in the same Indian soil. To say the least, such an idea is
absurd. We must have one Indian nation or no nation at all.
Sectarian sentiments are ill dignified by being named in the
lofty vocabulary of patriotism.
Two very sinister consequences are seen to flow from this
conception of a religious basis of nationality in the present
work. The first is the attempt to rehabilitate the Hindu
Pantheon with new-fangled patriotic gods and goddesses, and
the second is the morbid dislike of Mussulmans that seems to
be indicated in this work. Neither would seem to be the least
ix
profitable. As for the first, it sets a premium upon superstition
and suggests a proceedure which has been unhappily followed
by some of our public men of to-day. If it is sought by this
means to instil patriotism into the superstitious mind through
superstitions, it fails sadly ; for patriotism thus distorted can
never develop into genuine patriotism and must remain a
superstition for ever. It is a matter of common knowledge
that superstitions, once rooted, are far more difficult to uproot
than mere ignorance, and if permitted to remain, they may
promote particular ends, but must be a dead block to all
progress. Thus patriotism gains nothing by this distortion
and it only helps to hinder the growth of true Indian
Nationality by preventing the participation of Hindus and
Mussulmans and other religious communities in a common
patriotic work. The experiment therefore of degrading
patriotism by basing it on superstition is not only fruitless but
positively harmful.
The other is a more serious matter still. Now one thing
that would be patent to every reader of this novel is that its
heroes are frankly hostile to Mussulmans. This has led me
to think thrice before placing the work before a larger public
by translation. Our Mussulman friends have no doubt a good
right to get offended at the way in which the anti-Mussulman
sentiment has been developed in this novel. But several
facts have got to be taken into consideration. Firstly, as I
have already observed, our author is not to be too much
identified with the sayings and doings of his adventurers in
this book. Then again, the impression left by a study of the
whole book is that the feeling was not so much against
Mussulmans qua Mussulmans, as against the anarchy and
misrule under the Mussulman kings of the age and particular-
X
ly under Mir Jaffer who ruled at the time. It is notorious that
that the times were bad beyond mention. Between them-
selves the East India Company and the Nawab had contrived
to plunge the country into a state of distress which is looked
upon, even by Englishmen as a tale of their disgrace. If they
were so harassed, the people might well be angry with Mussul-
mans for their misdeeds and persecute them as they persecuted
the people and even put to the credit of the community the'
misdeeds of its rulers. This is really all that the author seeks
to depict. It would appear that in narrating the pranks of the
free lances of his Children the author gives us only what would
be natural in a body of uncultured men elated with victory
and excited by activity. He does not justify them nor is
he in sympathy with them. It would therefore not be
quite fair to him to hold him responsible for these
sayings and doings of the rabble which are so obviously
wrong.
But with all this, one cannot but regret the ami-Mussulman
sentiments that our author has so freely introduced in the
present work. Whatever poetic justice there might be for those
expressions considering the situation of the people whose
careers are depicted in the novel, every true son of India to-day
would sincerely wish that they had not existed in the work.
I would willingly have expunged those passages from the
translation were it not for a desire that the author should be
presented in the translation as no better or worse than he is.
The mischief is in fact past undoing, but may we not, Hindus
and Mussulmans, agree to forgive our author's aberrations
in the respect in view of the noble lessons in patriotism that
he has given us. In justification of my attempt to present the
work to a larger circle of readers, I may say, that it is this
XI
consideration which has prompted me to translate the work
in spite of its defects.
The work of translation has been by no means a plain
sailing. Yet with all its difficulties the work has been one of
love and a joy to me. I do not therefore feel entitled to claim
any indulgence from the reader or quarter from the critic on
that score. The work, however, has been rushed through the
press for the importunity of my publisher and I shall not be
the least surprised if faults are found to have been permitted to
remain.
In conclusion, I have to convey my best thanks to my
esteemed friend Mr. Prithwis Chandra Ray, the Editor of the
Indian World for his constant encouragement and support, in
placing every facility at my disposal, in looking over the proofs,
and in making several very important suggestions. To the
management of the Cherry Press too 1 am thankful for the
expedition and promptness with which the work has been done.
Author's Preface to the First Edition.
The wife of the Bengalee is very often his chief
support : sometimes also she is not.
Revolutions are very generally processes of self-tor-
ture and rebels are suicides.
The English have saved Bengal from anarchy.
These truths are elucidated in this work.
Author's Preface to the Third Edition.
This time the true history of the Sannyasi Rebellion
has been given in extracts from English works in the
Appendix. The reader will see that it was a very
serious affair.
He will also see that there is some difference
between a history and a novel. The battles described
in the novel did not really happen in Birbhum but
in Northern Bengal. And, in the novel, the name of
Major Wood has been used in the place of Captain
Edwards. This difference I do not consider essential,
for the novel is a novel and not history.
Author's Preface to the Fifth Edition.
It was found unnecessary to retain the differences
referred to in the preface to the third edition and the
necessary emendations have been made in the present
edition. There has been alterations in some other
respects also. Santi has been made a little gentler and
the part of her life which was left to the reader to guess
in previous editions has been explicitly set forth in a
fresh chapter.
INTRODUCTORY
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
Introductory
It was a vast forest The trees in it were mostly
sal, but there were other trees too. Their tops and
leaves ran into one another to form an endless line.
This vast ocean of foliage, without break, without a hole,
without, in fact, the smallest opening to let in light,
stretched forth miles after miles, and miles after miles
again, throwing up waves upon waves of green on the air.
Below, there was the deepest gloom ; light was dim here
even when the sun was at its height. It was a fearful
wilderness and no man ever stepped into it. Save the
eternal rustle of leaves and the yells of wild animals, no
sound was ever heard within it.
Such was this forest, — vast, gloomy, and dense ; and
the time we are speaking of was midnight ; and a
very dark night too, even out of the woods — where
nothing could be seen. The gloom within the forest
was black like the darkness in the womb of the earth.
Birds and beasts were wholly silent Myriads of
beasts, birds, worms and insects lived in the woods, but
not one made a sound. You might rather imagine the
darkness that was there, but you could not think of that
dead stillness of the wood in a world which so much
revels in sound. In that vast lonely forest, in that
pitch-dark midnight, and from that unimaginable still-
ness cjme forth the words, " Will my desire not be
fulfilled."
When the sound died away, the woods sank back into
silence. Who would think then, that a man's voice had
just been heard in the woods? Soon after, the words
were heard again ; again the stillness was disturbed,
and a human voice rang forth : " Will my desire not
be fulfilled ?"
Thrice was the ocean of gloom thus stirred before
the answer came, " What can you pawn for it ?"
" Even my very life."
" Life is a trifle," was the answer, i( every one can
give it up."
" What more have I got ? What more could I give ?'
The answer came : " DEVOTION."
PARI I
Chapter I
On a certain day in the year 1176 B.S., the sun was
shining hot in the village of Padachinha. The village
was full of houses but you could find very few men there.
There were rows of shops in the market, rows of huts in
the fair, and mud houses in hundreds and brick build-
ings, high and low, here and there. But to-day not a
sound was to be heard in any one of them. The shops
were closed and the shop-keepers gone, no one knew
where. It was the market-day of the village but no
market was being held. It was the day for giving alms,
but no beggars did turn up. The weaver had left his
loom and was wailing on the floor of his house ; the
trader wept with hts baby in arms unmindful of his
trade ; alms-givers had stopped their charity ; adhyapaks
had closed their schools ; and children too, it would
seem, did not venture to cry. There were no men in the
streets, no bathers in the tanks, no householders in the
houses, no birds in the trees, no cows in the pasture
lands, — only plenty of jackals and dogs roamed about
in the mortuary. One big house whose huge pillars could
be seen from a distance shone in that wilderness of houses
like the peak of a mountain. There was not much of
'shining' in it however ; for its doors were shut and rooms
unoccupied ; it was devoid of sound and difficult even
for the wind to get in. In the rooms within, it was dark
4
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
even at midday and in that darkness pensively sat two
human beings like a couple of full-blown flowers at
midnight
The famine was before them.
In 1174 there was a bad harvest. So food became a
little dear in 1175. The people were in distress but the
State realised its dues to the last penny, Having paid
down the royal dues, the poor people satisfied them-
selves with but one meal a day and struggled on.
There was a good shower during the rains of 1175
and the people thought with joy that the gods had
perhaps smiled on them. The shephard began his
carol again and the peasant's wife began to tease her
spouse for her silver armlet. Suddenly the gods
turned angry in Aswin, for there was not a drop of rain
in that month and the crops in the field dried up into
hay. Those who reaped a harvest at all had their crop
bought up by the State for the support of its army.
The people therefore starved. At first they had one
meal a day, then they went on half rations, and then
starved the whole day. The small Chaitra harvest
that they gathered was not enough for anybody. But
Mahommad Reza Khan, the officer in charge of the State
revenue, thought that he would be a favourite of the
authorities by a stroke at this time, and forthwith en-
hanced the assessment by 10 per cent. There was a howl
of grief all over Bengal.
First, people began to beg. But soon there
was none to give alms ; — they then began to starve.
CHAPTER I
5
Then they began to suffer from diseases. They sold their
cattle, sold their ploughs, ate up the seed grains, sold
their houses and their holdings, and at last their
daughters and sons and wives. Then there could not
be found buyers of men, everybody wanted to sell. They
then fed on leaves, grass and weeds for want of othej*
food ; the lower classes and wild tribes fed on dogs,
mice and cats. Many fled and died of starvation away
from their homes. Those who did not fly away died
from starvation or from diseases brought on by eating
unwholesome food.
Diseases had a jolly time of it Fever, cholera and
small pox prevailed, particularly the last. People
died in every house from small-pox. There was none
to touch them, treat them, or give them a drink. No one
looked at any body else. No one removed the dead.
The fairest bodies lay down to rot in the mansions.
When small-pox once made its appearance in a house,
the householders instantly took to flight, leaving the
patient behind.
Mahendra Singha was a very rich man of Padachinha,
but rich and poor fared alike at this time. In that dire
day, his relatives and friends, his servants and retainers,
had all left him. Some had died of disease and others
had fled. Of his entire household there remained now
only himself, his wife and a little child — a daughter.
It was of them that we were speaking.
Mahendra's wife Kalyani ceased musing and went
to the cow-shed to milk the cow herself. She then
6
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
warmed the milk, fed her child and went away again
to give some hay and water to the cows. When she
came back, Mahendra asked, " How long could we go
on in this way?"
" Not very long, I am sure," said Kalyani, " but we
must go on as long as we can ; — so long, at any rate, as I
live. You may then go away to town with our daughter."
" If we ever have to go to town, why then should
I let you suffer so much now ? Come let us go at once."
They then had a long discussion over it. " Do you
think it would be any good our going to town ?'' asked
Kalyani.
" I am afraid," answered Mahendra, " the town may
have grown as desolate and as impossible to live in as
here."
" But perhaps," said Kalyani, " we might fare better
by going to Murshidabad, Cassimbazar, or Calcutta. It
is by all means needful to leave this place."
Mahendra said, " This house is full of the hoarded
wealth of generations. Do you know that all this will
be plundered by thieves ? "
K. <l If they really come to plunder, can we
two save it? If life is lost, who will enjoy the
riches ? Let us now lock up our doors and be off. If
life is spared us, we shall come back to enjoy them
again."
Mahendra said, " I don't know if you will be able
to go on foot as you will have to ; for Palki
bearers are dead, and, as for bullock-carts, if you have
CHAPTER I
1
the driver you have not the cattle, and if cattle is found
you don't find the driver."
K. " You need not fear, I shall walk all the way."
But she thought at heart, " If I can't, what harm ? I
shall die on the road, but these two will, at any rate, be
saved."
The next morning the husband and the wife put their
house under lock and key, let the cattle loose, provided
themselves with some cash, took the child in their arms,
and started for the capital. When they were about to
start, Mahendra said : " The road is hard and robbers are
prowling about everywhere, we should not go without
arms." So saying he went back into the house and
returned with a gun and some powder and shot.
Seeing this, Kalyani said, " Since you remind me of
arms, will you just hold Sukumari awhile and let me
too fetch mine?" So saying she gave the child to
Mahendra and entered the house, Mahendra observing,
" What arms are you going to have ?"
Kalyani got some poison in a pill-box and hid it
under her garments. She had taken care to provide
herself with it before this, not knowing what might
happen to her at a time like that.
It was the month of Jaistha (May-June). The sun was
furious, and the earth like a furnace. The wind spread
fire all round, the sky looked like a canopy of heated
copper and the grains of street dust were like sparks of
fire. Kalyani perspired horribly ; she sat down to rest
now under the babla and now under the date-palm
s
HE ABBEY OF BUSS
drank the murky water of ponds and then walked again,
suffering terribly. Mahendra held the child in his arms
and fanned it now and then. Once they sat down to
rest under a tree decked with dense green foliage and
fragrant flowers, and fondly encircled by creepers,
Mahendra was surprised at the patience with which
Kalyani roughed all this out. He soaked his cloth in
the pond which was there, and with its water drenched
the face, hands and feet of Kalyani and himself.
Kalyani was slightly refreshed, but they were both
oppressed by hunger. This . they could stand, but the
hunger and thirst of the little child they could not
bear. Therefore they walked on and on, — they swam
so to say across the torrent of fire, till at dusk they
reached an inn. Mahendra fondly hoped that there he
would be able to refresh his wife and child with cool
water and give them some food to keep them from star-
vation. But alas, he found no one in the inn. Big huts
lay there, the men had all fled. Mahendra looked about.
He then made his wife and child lie down in one of
the rooms, and coming out shouted to the top of his
voice. No one answered. Then he said to Kalyani, " Do
just gather up courage to stay alone for a while ; if there
is a cow in the land, Srikrishna help me, I'll get some
milk.' 3 So saying he walked out with an earthen pitcher
in hand, — there were many such lying about in that
place.
Chapter II
Mahendra went out. Left alone with her daughter
in that lonely place and in that gloomy room, Kalyani
was anxiously looking about on all sides. She was struck
with fear. There was nobody there, no trace of a human
being ; the howling of dogs and jackals at intervals
were the only sounds that reached her ears. " Why did
I let him go ?" she thought, " we might as well have
borne the hunger and thirst for some time longer." She
thought of shutting all the doors, but alas, the doors had
none of them a latch. Thus looking about, her eyes fell
on something like a shadow at the door before her. It
seemed like the figure of a man, yet did not exactly
look like one. Something very lank, shorn, and very
dark, naked and horrid— something like such a man
stood at the door. Presently the shadow seemed to
raise a hand. It seemed to beckon to somebody with the
long choppy fingers of a very long skin-and-bone hand.
Kalyani's heart-blood dried up with fear. Then another
shadow like it— skinny, dark, tall and naked, stood
beside the first Then came another and another and
yet another — oh so many they were ! Slowly and
silently they began to enter the room. The dim room
became on their entrance as dreadful as a mortuary at
midnight. The ghost-like beings then surrounded
Kalyani and her daughter. Kalyani all but fainted away
for fright. The dark and skinny men then took her up
10
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
with her daughter and carried them out of the room,
across the field, into a forest.
*****
Mahendra came there soon after, with milk, for his
wife and child, in the pitcher he had carried. But there
was no one in the room. He looked about, and then
called aloud by his daughter's name and his wife's ;
no answer, no trace of any human soul could be found
anywhere.
Chapter III
The wood in which the outlaws laid down Kalyani
was a very beautiful one. There was no light, and no
eyes to appreciate the beauty of it however. It there-
fore remained unseen like the beauty of a poor man's
heart. There might be no food in the country, but, for
all that, the woods did not lack flowers, and the odour of
these seemed to make even that darkness luminous.
The ruffians put Kalyani and her daughter down on a
clean spot covered with soft grass and themselves sat
round her. They then began to talk about what they
might do with her, — they had of course appropriated,
before this, every bit of ornament that Kalyani had on
her person. A party of them were busy dividing the spoils.
This done, one of the robbers said : " What shall we do
with gold and silver ? Take one of my trinkets any of
you and give me a handful of rice instead. I am dying
with hunger. I have had nothing more than leaves
to eat to-day." When one showed the way, all the rest
began to clamour in the same strain. " Rice " Rice,"
" Dying with hunger, don't want gold and silver," they
cried. Their captain sought to assuage them, but no one
would listen. Words grew hot, abuses were freely used
and a fight was imminent. In a rage every body threw
at the captain the trinkets that had fallen to his share.
The captain in his turn struck one or two, when all of
12
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
them *fell on him and began to strike him. He
was famished and weak, and so he fell dead after a few
strokes. Then of the hungry, irate, excited and senseless
ruffians one said, " We have delighted in the flesh of
dogs and jackals ! Now that we are dying with hunger,
come, let us eat this rogue to-day." Then every one
shouted in delight "Jai Kali" — " Bom Kali ! To-day
we will eat human flesh." So saying the lank and shorn,
black and ghostly, shapes began to laugh and clap and
dance like fiends. One of them set about lighting a fire
to roast their captain. He got together some dry
creepers and wood, and with a flint and iron set fire to
the mass. As the light began to glow, the green leaves
of the surrounding trees — mangoe, lemon, jack, palm,
tamarind, date and others, — slowly came to view. Here
a leaf caught fire, there a grass shone bright with the
light ; at other places the darkness grew thicker. When
the fire was ready, one was about to throw the corpse
into it when another said, " Tarry, my man, if live we
must on the noble meat today, why then eat the stiff
flesh of that old wretch ? Let's eat what we have secured
to day ; let us roast that tender girl." Another said,
" Roast something — anything — boys, can't bear the
hunger any more." And they all greedily looked to
the spot where Kalyani lay with her child. But lo !
the place was empty ; neither mother nor child was
there. She had made good her escape while the robbers
were busy quarrelling, having silenced the child by
putting her to suckle. Seeing that their prey was gone
CHAPTER III
13
the fiendish ruffians rushed out on all sides, yelfmg
like beasts. There are times when man becomes Iktle
better than a beast of prey.
Chapter IV
The wood was very dark, Kalvani could not find
her way in it. There was hardly any path through the
thick crowd of trees, herbs and thorns. Added to that,
it was intensely dark. Still Kalyani pushed her way
into the forest through the trees and thorny bushes.
Now and then a thorn would prick the child and the
little thing would cry and the ruffians would shout with
redoubled zeal. Thus did Kalyani make her way into
the thick of the forest drenched with blood. Then the
moon rose. Till then Kalyani had fondly hoped that
the outlaws would not be able to see her in the dark
and would desist from the pursuit. But now that
the moon was up, she could entertain such a hope no
longer. From the sky the moon showered her silver
beams on the tops of the trees and the gloom within
grew softer with light And streaks of light came
through openings here and there and peeped into
the dark. The higher the moon rose, the more
light got into the forest and the gloom retired
more into its depths. Kalyani with her daughter began
to retire into deeper woods. The ruffians rushed from
all sides shouting all the more, and the child began to
weep all the louder for fear. Then Kalyani stopped and
would run no more. Sitting on a thornless and grassy
plot of land under a big tree, with her daughter in her
arms, she only cried, " Where art Thou Whom I daily
CHAP1ER IV
worship, to Whom I daily bow and trusting Whom I
could enter even this wild forest ? Where art thou, O
Madhusudan." Kalyani was weak with hunger and
thirst, and now from the intense fervour of her devotion,
she slowly lost all physical sensations and in her inner
consciousness she heard in space a heavenly voice
chanting the various favourite names of Vishnu.
From childhood Kalyani had heard in Puranas that
the heavenly saint Narada wandered over the world
chanting the divine name of Hart to the accompaniment
of his harp. That vision was now conjured up in her mind.
Inly she saw the colossal figure of the great saint, with
a complexion of faultless white and with flowing white
locks and beards, passing in his white garments through
the azure sky, lit with silver moonbeams and singing the
name of God to the accompaniment of the Vina.
Slowly the music drew nearer and became more
audible. It drew nearer and grew clearer still, till at
last the song rang the woods to the echo just over her
head.
Kalyani then opened her eyes. In the misty moon-
light of the woods she saw standing before her the
glorious form of the hoary saint with a complexion
of faultless white, and with milk-white garments on,
his hair and beards flowing in waves of snow. Half
dreaming, she thought she would bow-yher head to him,
but as she lowered her head to make her salute she
fell senseless on the ground.
Chapter V
Within this wood there stood a large monastery on
a large piece of land with broken stones all around.
Antiquarians would perhaps say that it was a Buddhist
monastery in old days and was subsequently con-
verted into a Hindu one. The buildings were two-storied.
Within them were many temples and in front was a
canopied yard. Most of the buildings were surrounded
by walls and so shaded by trees outside that one would
not think there was a building here, even if one looked
in the daylight and from close quarters. The buildings
were broken at many places but you could see by day-
light that those places had been repaired of late. From
the very sight of those buildings you could at once
infer that there was human habitation within this deep
inaccessible forest. In one of the rooms of this abbey
a big log was burning, and as Kalyani first regained her
consciousness in it, she saw before her, the great man of
hoary hue, with milk-white garments on ! Kalyani
looked again with surprise, for she could not recollect
things yet. Then the great man said, " Mother, this
is a place of the gods, you need not be afraid. There
is a little milk there, drink that and then I shall speak
to you."
Kalyani understood nothing at first. Then as she
grew a little steady, she took the skirt of her cloth
round her neck and bowed herself before the great man.
CHAPTER V
17
He blessed her, and, getting a fragrant earthenpot fiom
another room, boiled the milk on the fire that was burn-
ing. When the milk was ready, he gave it to Kalyani
and said " Mother, give some to your daughter and take
the rest yourself — you may talk to me later on." Kalyani
joyfully began to feed her child. Then the saint walked
out * saying, " You need have no fear till I come back."
Coming back presently, he found that Kalyani had
fed her child but had taken nothing herself. There was
now almost as much milk as he left, only a little having
been used. " Mother," said he, " You have not taken
the milk ; I am going out again ; I wont come back till
you have taken it."
With this, the saintly man was going out again when
Kalyani bowed to him and folded her arms as if she
would speak.
The anchorite asked, "What do you want to say?"
Kalyani said, " Do not bid me take the milk, there is
some bar to it ; I will not take anything now."
Then the anchorite feelingly said, " Tell me what bar
there is. I am an anchorite and a celebate. You are as
a daughter to me. What can there be that you may not
like to tell me? When I brought you senseless from the
woods, you seemed to be very much pulled down with
hunger and thirst How can you live without food? "
Kalyani's eyes grew wet as she said : (i You are a
* This and what follows refers to a point of etiequette in Bengali Hindu
Society where a lady does not consider it consistent with her modesiy to
take food before males or strangers.
2
IS
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
god, and I will tell you. My husband is yet unfed.
How can I eat or drink till I meet him or learn that he
has had some food ? " *
The monk asked 11 Where is your husband ? "
" That" said Kalyani, " I do not know. The out-
laws brought me away when he had gone out to look for
some milk." Then the anchorite asked her question
after question and obtained every information about
Kalyani and her husband. Kalyani did not give him her
husband's name, in fact she could not do sof ; — but from
other clues the monk came to recognise her and said
" You are Mahendra's wife ?" Kalyani did not answer ;
she looked down modestly and threw a splinter of wood
on the fire on which the milk was warming. Then the
anchorite said : " You do as I bid you ; drink the milk,
and I shall get news of your husband. I won't go till
you have done it."
Kalyani inquired if there was any water in the
house. The monk pointed to the pitcher. Kalyani put
on the palms of her hands together in the shape
of a cup and the anchorite filled it with water.
She brought it to his feet and asked him to sanctify
it with the dust of his feet. The monk touched it
with his toe, and Kalyani drank away the water and
said, " I have drunk nectar, pray bid me not take
* A Hindu wife would never partake of food till her husband has had it,
t It is considered indelicate, nay, even a sin, in orthodox Hindu
Society for a wife to utter her husband's name.
CHAPTER V
anything more. I will take nothing more till I hear
of my husband," The monk urged no more. "You
are safe in this temple," said he, " stay here while I
go in search of your husband."
Chapter VI
The night was far advanced and the moon just
overhead. It was not a full moon and the light she
threw was not very bright and lighted in a very
indifferent way an extensive plain. In the dim light
that was there, you could not discern the other side
of the field nor say who or what was there. The
whole thing looked like a lonely and limitless abode
of fear. Through it lay the road from Murshidabad to
Calcutta with a little hill beside. On the hill were
plenty of mango and other trees whose tops hissed and
shone glistening in the moon light. The dark shadows
on the black rock shivered in response. The celebate
stood upon the hill-top silently listening, — to what, we
cannot say. There was not a sound to be heard in the
all but endless plain save the murmur of leaves. Near
the bottom of the hill was a little jungle between the
hill above and the road below. We cannot say what
he could hear from that spot, but the celebate went
that way. Getting into dense forest he saw in the
thick darkness under the trees, rows of men — tall, black
and fully armed, — their clean arms glistening in the
straggling moonbeams that came through breaks in the
foliage. Two hundred such men were sitting there and
not one did speak. The celebate slowly came among
them and made a sign. No one rose, no one spoke, and
no one made a sound. He walked along the line in
CHAPTER VI
21
front of them peering at every one's face and watching
every one with care, as if he was in search of somebody
he could not find. After a long search he stopped before
one, touched him and made a sign. He instantly rose and
the celebate took him to. a distance. The man was young ;
his winning face was overgrown with dark hair and
he owned a strong and charming frame. He wore the
saffron robe and his body was pasted with sandal.
"Bhavananda," the anchorite asked this man, "do you
know anything of Mahendra Sinha? "
" Mahendra Sinha," said Bhavananda, " left his
house today and was on the way, when at the inn — "At
this the celebate interrupted him, " I know what
happened at the inn. Who did it ? "
" Rude rustics, I ween. — At this time the very
peasants of the village have turned robbers for hunger;
and in good sooth who is not a robber now? We
have fed on loot to-day ; two maunds of rice were
going for the Kotwal and we secured that for the grati-
fication of our sacred selves."
The celebate smiled, and said, " I have rescued
Mahendra's wife and child from the hands of the out-
laws ; they are now in the Abbey. Now, I charge you
with the task of finding out Mahendra and restoring to
him his wife and child. As for the work here," he
added, " I doubt not but Jivananda alone would be
able to do it."
Bhavananda agreed, and the celebate left the
place.
Chapter VII
To be musing at the inn would do no good, thought
Mahendra, and he left that place. He was going to town
to make a search for his wife and child with the aid
of the police there. He had not walked a long
way, when he found a number of sepoys marching
along in line with some bullock-carts. In 1176 B. S.,
Bengal had not yet come under British Rule, The
English were then the Dewan of Bengal. They raised
the revenue of the province but they had not yet then
taken up the work of protecting the life and property
of its people.
The work of collection then lay with the English
and that of the protection of the life and property
of the Bengalees lay with the wretched traitor, Mir Jaffer.
Mir Jaffer was not able to protect himself, far Jess
the people under his rule. He smoked opium and slept ;
the English made collections and wrote despatches ;
the Bengalee wept and wofully walked to ruin.
Thus the revenue was due to the English, but the
administration lay with the Nawab. Now, at each place
where the English raised the public dues they had
employed a collector. But the revenue thus raised had
to be sent to Calcutta. Men might starve and die, but
the collections could not wait. Well, but the whole
sum could not be got up anyhow. For, if mother earth
refuses to yield wealth people cannot beget it. How-
CHAPTER VII
23
ever, what had been raised was being sent laden in carts
to the Company's treasury at Calcutta. In those days
the fear of being robbed was great and so fifty armed
sepoys marched in rows, with bayonets drawn, before
and behind the carts. Their commander was an English
soldier ; he was on horse-back and came last. The sepoys
could not walk by day for the heat of the sun and were
therefore marching by night. As they :were marching
they came in Mahendra's way. He stood by the side
of the road, as it was quite filled up with carts and
sepoys. Still the sepoys would jostle against him. It
was not the time to quarrel, thought he, and so
Mahendra left the road and stood near the water beside.
Then a sepoy said, <f There's a robber running away."
He was confirmed in his belief on seeing the gun in
Mahendra's hand. So he made for Mahendra, caught
him by the neck, suddenly gave him a blow with an
imprecation on his lips, and snatched away his gun. With
an empty hand, Mahendra could but strike back with his
fist ; — needless to say, he was very angry. The redoubt-
able sepoy reeled at the blow and fell senseless on the
spot. Then several sepoys fell on Mahendra, dragged him
by force to their captain and reported to him that the man
had killed one of their company. The saheb was smok-
ing his pipe and was a bit worse for drink. He only said :
" Catch hold of the sala and marry him." The sepoys
did not very well see how they could marry an armed
robber ; but they thought, the captain would reconsider his
orders when he came back to his senses and they might be
24
THE ABBEY OF BUSS
spared the 'marriage/ So 3 or 4 of them tied Mahendra'fc
hands and feet with the ropes of a cart and put him on it
Mahendra saw it was useless to show fight before so
many men ; and he thought it scarcely worth his while
to be free, even if he could be so by force. For, he was
then struck with grief for the loss of his wife and child
and did not wish to live. The sepoys secured him well
to the wheels of the cart and then they marched on
with slow and solemn steps with their trust as before,
Chapter VIII
Under the orders of the monk, Bhavananda walked
towards the inn where Mahendra stayed, softly chanting
Harinam. He thought, he could get a trace of
Mahendra there.
At that time there were not such roads in the country
as the English have now built. To come to Calcutta in
those days from one of the towns in the interior you had
to walk by the primitive roads built by the Mussul-
man Emperors. In going to town from Padachinha,
Mahendra had to walk from south to north. Therefore he
met the sepoys on the way who were marching from north
to south. In walking from Talpahar to the inn, Bhava-
nanda too walked to the north. So, he too shortly met
thei*;'sepoys guarding the treasure on the way. Like
Mahendra he too stood by to let them pass.
Now, naturally, the sepoys had thought that dacoits
would try to plunder the treasure. Besides, they had
caught j-:a real robber on the way. So when they saw
Bhavananda too stand aside like Mahendra they were
easily convinced that he was another outlaw. They,
therefore, instantly caught him.
Bhavananda smiled and said "Why, my friend, what's
the matter ?" A sepoy said " Sala, you are a robber."
'.' You can well see I am a devotee in the holy dress.
Does a robber look like this?' ' inquired he,
"In sooth/ said the sepoy, " many a rogve of a monk
26
THE ABBEY Ofi BLISS
and anchorite have turned bandits now-a-days." So
saying he pushed Bhavananda by the neck. Bhava-
nanda's eyes flashed in the dark, but he did not resent it ;
he only said : " Sire, command me what you want me to
do." The sepoy was pleased with his submissive tone and
said, " Take, sala> take a load on your head," and
put a kit upon his head. But another sepoy suggested
" He'll escape, better tie up him on the cart where you
have bound the .other sala" At this Bhavananda grew
curious to see the person they had bound down. So he
threw away his load and gave a smart slap to the sepoy
who had put it on his head. The sepoy thereupon tied
him up too and threw him on the cart beside Mahendra.
The sepoys again began to make a great noise as
they marched carelessly along, and the cart wheels went
on creaking. Then Bhavananda slowly said, in a voice
that Mahendra alone could hear : " Mahendra Sinha, I
know you, and I am here to help you. You need not
know now who I am. Take care to do what I tell you
now. Hold the rope on your hand on the cart-wheel."
Mahendra was startled, but silently did as Bhavananda
asked him to do. In the darkness he approached the
wheel and placed his hand on it, so that the tying rope
just touched the wheel. By and by the friction cut away
the rope. Then he cut the bond of his feet in the same
way. Thus freed, he lay still on the cart without an effort
to escape. In the like manner, Bhavananda too cut his
bonds. Both lay still.
The road of the company lay through the spot where
CHAPTER VIII
21
the monk had looked about from the highway.
When they came near the hill they saw a man
standing on a small mound. Seeing his dark figure
carved on the moonlit azure sky, the Hawaldar said,
"That is another sala, go and catch him. He shall
carry a burden." Then a sepoy went to catch him. The
sepoy was going for him, but he stood still and did not
move a limb. The sepoy caught him ; still he said nothing.
He was then brought before the Hawaldar ; still he re-
mained quiet. A sepoy put a load on his head and he took
it. The Hawaldar then turned back and walked with
the cart. Suddenly there was heard the report of a pistol
shot ; the hawaldar was shot through the head and fell
dead on the spot A sepoy caught the kit-bearer's hand,
saying, "this man has killed the Hawaldar" : — he had still
the pistol in his hand. He threw away his load and struck
the sepoy with the pistol and broke his head, and then
the fellow desisted. Just then two hundred armed men
came out of the woods and surrounded the sepoys.
The sepoys were then awaiting their captain, who,
thinking that robbers were on them, rode up to
the carts and gave orders to form a square ; — the Eng-
lishman comes round to his senses at the time of peril.
The sepoys instantly formed a square facing all sides ; at
the second order from him they raised their guns. At
this time somebody tore away the captain's sword from
his waist and with one blow cut down his head. When
the sakeb fell down head-less from his horse, the order
to fire could no more be given. Every one's eyes ther fell
28
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
on a man who stood on the cart, sword In hand, and
cried < Hari, Hari ' and shouted " Kill the sepoys, kill the
sepoys." It was Bhavananda.
When they saw their captain's head suddenly
chopped off and got no orders from any one, the sepoys
stood still for some time in fear and stupor. In the
meantime, the fiery robbers killed and wounded many
of them, approached the cart and took possession of the
treasure-boxes. The sepoys were demoralised and fled
defeated.
Then the man who had stood on the mound and
had later on taken the lead in the fight approached
Bhavananda. After they had embraced each other,
Bhavananda said, " Brother Jivananda, well did you
enter our order." Jivananda said " Bhavananda, be your
name glorified ! "
Jivananda grew busy in carrying the booty to the
proper place and soon left the place with his followers.
Bhavananda stood there alone.
Chapter IX
Mahendra had got down from the cart, snatched
his arms from a sepoy and was ready to fight. But he
shortly knew that these people were robbers and had
attacked the sepoys to plunder the treasure. So thinking,
he drew off and stood apart from the field of fight. For,
he thought, he would share the glamour of their mis-
deeds if he aided these miscreants. He then threw
down the sword and began slowly to walk away, when
Bhavananda came and stood by him.
Mahendra asked, " Sir, who are you ?"
" What's the use of your knowing it," retorted
Bhavananda.
" I have some use ; — I have been placed under a very
deep obligation to you today."
" I did not see you felt like it. Sword in hand, you
stood apart. You are a Zemindar's son, deft enough
in devouring milk and butter, but no good for any
strenuous work.
He had scarcely finisheci when Mahendra retorted
with scorn : "But it was a wicked deed — it was robbery."
" Be it so," returned Bhavananda, " We have done
you some good and wish to do some more. You might
as well try to require."
M. You have done me some good, no doubt ; but
what more good can you do ? And really it's better to go
without any obligation than to be obliged to a robber.
30
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
Bh. You may accept or refuse our aid as you
like. You may come with me if you choose. I might
take you to meet your wife and child."
Mahendra turned round and said, " What do you
say ? "
Bhavananda returned no answer but walked away.
Mahendra had no option but to follow him, wondering
as he went what sort of outlaws these might be.
Chapter X
In that smiling moonlit night, the two silently
walked across the plain. Mahendra was silent, sad,
careless and a little curious.
Bhavananda suddenly changed his looks. He was
no more the steady and mild anchorite, nor wore any
more the warlike hero's face — the face of the slayer of a
captain of forces. Not even was there in his mien the
proud disdain with which he had scolded Mahendra even
now. It seemed as if his heart was filled with joy at the
beauteous sight of the earth, lulled in peace and beaming
under the silvery moon, and of the glory in her wilds and
woods and hills and streams, and grew cheery like the
ocean smiling with the rise of the moon. Bhavananda
grew chatty, cheerful, cordial and very eager to talk. He
made many an attempt to open a conversation with
his companion but Mahendra would not speak. Having
no option left, he then began to sing to himself :
Hail thee mother ! To her I bow,
Who with sweetest water o'erflows
With dainty fruits is rich endowed
And cooling whom the south wind blows,
Who's green with crops as on her grow ;
To such a mother down I bow.
Mahendra was a little puzzled to hear the song ; he
could not grasp anything. Who could be the mother, he
thought
" Who with sweetest water o'erflows,
With dainty fruits is rich endowed
And cooling whom the south wind blows ?
Who's green with crops as on her grow. ,
32
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
He asked, " Who is the mother ? " Bhavananda did
not answer but sang on :
With silver moonbeams smile her nights
And trees that in their bloom abound
Adorn her ; and her face doth beam
With sweetest smiles ; sweet's her sound !
Joy and bliss she doth bestow ;
To such a mother down I byv.
" It is the country and no mortal mother " — cried
Mahendra. " We own no other mother," retorted Bhava-
nanda ; "they say, 'the mother and the land of birth
are higher than heaven.' We think the land of birth
to be no ether than our mother herself. We have no
mother, no father, no brother, no wife, no child, no
hearth or home, we have only got the mother
Who with sweetest water o'erflows
With dainty fruits is rich endowed.
Mahendra now understood the song and asked
Bhavananda to sing again.
He sang :
Hail thee mother ! Tp her I bow,
Who with sweetest water o'erflows
With dainty fruits is rich and endowed
And cooling whom the south wind blows ;
Who's green with crops as on her grow ;
To such a mother down I bow !
W'th silver moon beams smile her nights
And trees that in their bloom abound
Ajdorn her ; and her face doih beam
With sweetest smiles, sweet's her sound !
Joy and bli$s she doth bestow ;
To such a mother down I bow.
Resounding with trumphal shouts
From seventy million voices bold
CHAPTER X
33
With devotion served by twice
As many hands that ably hold
The sharp and shining rapier bold,
— Thou a weakling we are told I *
Proud in strength and prowess thou art,
Redeemer of thy children thou ;
Chastiser of aggressive foes ;
Mother, to thee thy child I bow.
Thou art knowledge, thou my faith.
Thou my heart and thou my mind.
Nay more, thou art the vital air
"I hat moves my body from behind.
Of my hands thou art the strength,
At my heart devotion thou,
In each temple and each shrine,
To thy image it is we bow.
Durga bold who wields her arms
With half a score of hands,
The science- goddess, Vani too,
And Lakshmi who on lotus stands, —
What are they but, mother, thou,
To thee in all these forms I bow !
To thee ! Fortune-giver, that art
To fault unknown, beyond compare,
Who dost with sweetest waters flow
And on thy children in thy care
Dainty fruits dost rich bestow,
To thee, mother, to thee I bow !
To thee I bow, that art so green
And so rich bedecked ; with smile
Thy face doth glow ; thou dost sustain
And hold us — still unknown to guile !
Hail thee mother 1 To thee I bow !
Mahendra saw that the outlaw was weeping as he sang.
He then asked in wonder " Who may you be, please ? "
* Another reading would give ** why art thou so weak with so much
strength?"
3
34
THE ABBE Y OF BLISS
Bhavananda answered, " We are The Children! 1
" Children ! Whose children are you ?"
" Our mother's."
" Well, but does a child worship its mother with the
proceeds of robbery ?"
" We do nothing of the sort"
41 Presently you looted a cart."
" Was that robbery ? Whom did we rob ? "
" Why, of course the king !"
" The King ! What right has he to take this money ? "
" It is the royal portion which goes to the king."
" How do you call him a king who does not rule his
kingdom ? "
" I fear you will be blown up before the sepoy's
cannons one of these days."
" We have seen plenty of sepoys ; even to-day we
have had some."
4t You haven't yet known them aright, you will
know them one day however."
" What then ? One never dies more than once."
" But why should you willingly invite death ?"
" Mahendra Sin ha, I thought you to be a man
amongst men, but I now see there is little to choose
between you and the rest of your lot ; — you are only the
sworn consumer of milk and butter. Just think of the
snake. It creeps on the ground ; I cannot think of any
creature lower and meaner than it ; but put your foot on
its neck and it will spread its fangs to bite you. But can
nothing disturb your equanimity ? Look round and see,
CHAPTER X
35
look at Magadha, Mithila, Kasi, Kanchi, Delhi, Kashmir,
— where do you find such misery as here. Where else do
the people eat grass for want of better food ? Where do
they eat thorns and white-ants' earth and wild creepers ?
Where do men think of eating dogs and jackals and
even carcasses ? Where else can you find men getting so
anxious about the money in their coffers, the salgram in
their temples, the females in the Zenana, and the
child in the mother's womb ? Yes, here they even rip
open the womb ! In every country the bond that binds
a sovereign to his subjects is the protection that he
gives ; but our Mussalman King — how does he protect
us ? Our religion is gone ; so is our caste, our honour and
the sacredness of our family even ! Our lives even are
now to be sacrificed. Unless we drive these tipsy long-,
beards away, a Hindu can no longer hope to save his
religion."
" Well, but how can you drive them away ?"
" We will beat them."
" Alone, will you ? With a slap, I presume."
The outlaw sang :
" Resounding with triumphal shouts
From seventy million voices bold,
With devotion served by twice
As many hands that ably hold
The sharp and shining rapier bold,
— Thou a weakling wc are told 1
M. " But I see you are alone"
Bh. " Why, only now you saw two hundred of us."
M. " Are they all Children ? "
36
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
Bh. "They are, all of them."
" How many more are there ?"
" Thousands of them ; we will have more by and by."
" Suppose you get ten or twenty thousands. Could
you hope to depose the Mussulman king with them ?"
" How many soldiers had the English at Plassey."
" Tut ! to compare the English with the Bengali !"
"Why not? Physical strength does not count for
much ; the bullet won't be running faster, I ween, if I
am stronger."
" Then why this great difference between the Eng-
lish and the Mussalman ? "
" Because an Englishman would die sooner than
fly ; — the Mussulman will fly with the first breath of fire
and look about for sherbet Secondly, the English have
determination : what they want to do they will see done.
The Mussulman soldiers come to die for pay, and
even that they don't always get. Lastly there is courage.
A cannon ball falls only on one spot and cannot kill two
hundred men together. Yet, when such a ball falls before
the Mussulmans, they fly away in a body, while no
Englishman would even fly before a shower of balls."
" Have you these qualities ?"
" No, but you dont pluck them like ripe fruits from
trees ; they come by practice."
" What is your practice ? ;>
" Don't you see we are all anchorites ? Our renun-
ciation is for the sake of this practice alone. When
our mission is done or the practice is completed, we
CHAPTER X
37
shall go back to our homes! We too have wives and
children."
" You have left them all ? How could you break the
ties of family life ? "
" A Child must not lie ! I will not brag in vain to
you. No body can ever cut the bond. He who says
that he never cares for the family bonds either did never
love or merely brags. We don't get rid of the bonds but
simply keep our pledge. Will you enter our order ? "
" Till I hear of my wife and child, I can say
nothing."
" Come and you will see them."
So saying they began to walk along. Bhavananda
sang the song 1 Hail Mother ' again. Mahendra had a
good voice and had some proficiency. in music which he
loved ; so he joined Bhabananda in his song. — He found
that it really brought tears to the eye. " If I have not
got to renounce my wife and daughter," said he " you
may initiate me into your order."
" He who takes this vow," said Bhavananda, " has
to give up his wife and children. If you take it, you
need not see your wife and daughter. They will be
well kept, but till the mission is fulfilled, you are not to
see their face."
" I don't care to take your vow," blurted out
Mahendr'i
Chapter XI
The next day dawned. The desolate woods, so long
dark and still, resounded gleefully with the joyous notes
of birds. In that blissful morn and in that happy wood,
Satyananda was sitting on his deer-skin seat in the
Abbey of Bliss for saying his morning prayer. Near him
sat Jivananda. At this time Bhavananda came there with
Mahendra. The monk silently went on with his
worship and no one ventured to speak. When his
prayers were done, Bhavananda and Jivananda both
saluted him and took the dust of his feet before humbly
taking their seats. Satyananda then beckoned to Bhava-
nanda and took him out. We do not know what they
talked about, but they shortly came back and the monk
feelingly spoke to Mahendra with a smiling face : ''My
child, I am very much distressed at your troubles. By the
grace of the Lord alone could I save your wife and child
last night/' He then told him the story of Kalyani's
rescue and said, " Come, I will take you where they
are." So saying the monk led the way and Mahendra
followed him into the temple. On entering it he found
it to be a very high and spacious chamber. Even in the
glorious morn smiling with the infant sun, when the
woods were glistening as if decked with diamonds, this
vast room was very dark. Mahendra could not at first see
what there was in the room, but gazing an d gazing on,
he presently found a huge four-handed image, bearing
CHAPTER XI
39
in its four hands, the Conch, the Disc, the Club and the
Lotus ; the Kaustubha shining in its breast and the
Sudarsan Chakra before it looking as if it turned.* Two
huge decapitated forms stood before it, painted as if
drenched in blood, representing Madhu and Kaitabha.f
To the left stood Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth,
as though shaking with fear, with her ample locks
flowing at ease and a garland of lilies on. To the
right was Saraswati, the goddess of learning, surrounded
with books and instruments of music and embodied
symphonies. On the lap of Vishnu sat a charming
figure, fairer far than Lakshmi or Saraswati and richer
far than both. Super-human beings like the Gandharvas,
Kinnaras, Yaks/ias, and Rakshas were engaged in
worshipping her.
The ascetic asked Mahendra in a deep and resound-
ing tone if he saw everything there.
" Yes " answered Mahendra.
" Have you seen what is there on Vishnu's lap ? "
" Aye, but who is she ? "
" The Mother."
" Who is the Mother? "
" She whose children we are."
"Who is she*"
* This is the form in which Vishnu, the Lord of Preservation, is con*
cetved in Hindu Mvthology. The Sttdarsana Chakra is the mythical disc
which Vishnu holds in his hand and with which he slays his foes,
t Two of the Demons killed by Vishnu to lighten the burden of the
world.
40
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
" You will know by and by ; now say, 'Hail Mother'
and come to see more."
Then the ascetic led Mahendra to another chamber
where he found a complete image of Jagaddhatri, perfect
and luxuriously decorated.
Mahendra asked, " Who is this ?"
" The Mother," said the celebate, "as she was,"
" What do you mean by that ? "
" In the past, she trampled under her feet the lion,
the tusker and other beasts, and built her own beauteous
palace over their homes. She was adorned in a full suit
of ornaments and was ever smiling and fair. She was
like the young sun of the morning and is here painted
in its hue. Make your obeisance to her,"
After Mahendra had bowed before the image of* his
mother-country which stood in the shape ot the protec
tress of the world, the anchorite showed him a narrow
tunnel and bade him come by it. He himself went
before and Mahendra followed him apprehensively to a
dark underground chamber where a streak of light had
straggled in somehow. In that dim light he saw the
figure of Kali.
The celebate observed, " Look what the mother
has now become." Mahendra cried with horror, " Oh,
Kali ! "
"Yes, Kali, covered with the blackest gloom, despoiled
of all wealth, and without a cloth to wear. The whole
of the country is a land of death and so the Mother
has no better ornament than a garland of skulls. Her
CHAPTER XI
4*
own Good she cruelly tramples under her foot !* Alas,
Mother ! "
Tears rolled down the cheeks of the monk. Mahendra
asked,
" Why are there arms in her hand ? "
" We are her children, we have only just given
her the arms. Say, 'Hail, Mother.' " Mahendra said
"Hail Mother J> and made his bow to Kali. Then the
monk showed him the way through another tunnel, bid
Mahendra follow him, and himself began to climb up.
Suddenly the rays of the morning sun flashed before their
eyes and sweet warblers poured forth their delicious
songs. In a large marble temple to which the alley led,
Mahendra saw a golden image of the ten-handed god-
dess smiling brightly in the morning sun.
Bowing to this goddess, the monk observed : " This is
the mother as she would be : — her ten hands spreading on
all sides and her varied powers appearing in them in the
form of so many arms; — the enemy trampled under
her feet and the lion at her feet engaged in killing her
foes, Her hands," he said, and tears rose to his eyes, —
"point to all sides ; the wielder of many arms and
chastiser of her foes she stands — with luck-giving
Lakshmi to her right and Vani, the spring of knowledge
and science, to her left. With her stand Kartik, the
* This is the form in which the goddess Kali is represented in Hindu
mythology. The form of Siva under Kali's feet the author takes to be an
allegorical representation of * Good,' for Siva means ' good.' It should be
botne in mind that these allegorical explanations are the author's own and
not sanctioned by mythology.
42
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
emblem of strength, and Ganesa, the god of success.
Come, let us join in saluting her." So saying, they
joined their palms and looking upwards sang in
harmony : —
Sarva-mangal-mangalye sive sarvartha-sadhike
saranye, tryambake gouri narayani namostute* They
both bowed with deepest reverence, and when they
rose, Mahendra inquired with a choking voice : " When
shall we look at this form of the mother ?" " When,"
said the monk, " all the children of the mother learn
to call her so, then will she be propitiated."
Mahendra abruptly asked, " Where are my wife
and daughter ?"
" Come and you will see them."
" Yes, I will see them but once, and then bid
them adieu."
" Why ? "
M. " I want to take your noble vow."
" Where would you send them," asked the monk.
Mahendra mused and then said, "There is no-
body in my house, I have no other place of refuge.
And, in truth, where else would I find an asylum in
these dire days ? "
" Go out of the temple by the way you came by.
* This is the prescribed form of invocation of the deity here represent-
ed. The form of the goddess here represented is called Rajrajeswari or
simply Durga and is the form in which the goddess is worshipped in
September — October by the Hindus of Bengal. Like the forms referred to
above, this one also is a form of the goddess of Power (Sakii) in Hindu
mythology. The new meaning read into it is, of course, the author's own.
CHAPTER XI
43
At the door you will find your wife and daughter.
Kalyani has not yet taken any food. You will find
food where they are sitting. Give her some and then
take what you like yourself ; now you will not meet
any of us. If your mind, however, remains unchanged,
I shall come to you in proper time."
Then suddenly the monk vanished by some
strange passage. Coming out by the way shown
to him, Mahendra saw Kalyani seated with her daugh-
ter within the pavilion on the yard.
Satyananda on the other hand got down to a seclu-
ded underground chamber by another tunnel. There
Jivananda and Bhavananda were counting money and
arranging the coins in rows, There lay in tha*t room
heaps of gold, silver and copper and shining diamonds,
pearls and coral. Bhavananda and Jivananda were
putting the booty of last night in order.
On entering the room, Satyananda said, " Jivananda,
Mahendra will come to us. It will be very useful to us if
he does, for then the hoarded wealth of generations of his
ancestors will be put to the service of the Mother. But do
not take him in till he is entirely and sincerely devoted
to the Mother. When your work is done, do follow him
at different times ; and when you see him fit, bring him
to the temple of Sri Vishnu. And, by all means, save
their lives, no matter when or how. For like the chas-
tising of the wicked, the protection of the good too is
a part of the The Children's mission.
Chapter XII
Bitter in all conscience had been their trials ere
they met— of both Kalyani and Mahendra. Kalyani was
borne down with her grief as she wept. Mahendra
wept more bitterly still. This done, they set them-
selves to wiping their eyes. As often as they wiped them,
however, tears would roll anew down their cheeks.
To stop the flow, Kalyani sought other topics and
spoke of taking something. She asked her husband to
take the food the celebate's man had left there. It was not
rice and curry, for you could not think of them at that
time, when famine was raging. Such things as were
in the land, however, the Children could easily get.
At that time hungry people would eat up every blessed
fruit that there might be on the trees ; but this part of the
wood was not accessible to common people and its fruits
were, therefore, secure from their grasp. The ascetic's
man could, therefore, secure for them plenty of fruits
and some milk ; for, quite a number of cows formed
part of the property of thesvi monks. At Kalyani's
request, Mahendra first ate something and then she
partook of some of the remains of his dish in private.
Of the milk, she gave some to her daughter and laid
by the rest, to give her hereafter. They then slept
to soothe their fatigue. On waking up the> began
to deliberate where to go. Kalyani said : ' We found
our home un.^fe and left it. Now we find it is worse
CHAPTER XIT
45
out of it. Let us then go back home again." Mahendra
too desired it. He wished to leave her at home in
charge of some worthy guardian and himself take
the glorious and heavenly vow of service to motherland.
He, therefore, easily agreed. Having shaken off their
fatigue by that time, they took up their daughter and
started for Padachinha.
But what path they were to take in going to that place
they could not make out in the depth of that impenetrable
wood. They thought they would find a way only if they
could get out of the wood, but out of the wood they could
not find the way to go. They groped about for a very
long time and after going round and round came to the
abbey again ; — the way out they could not find. Before
them stood a monk smiling, dressed in the Vaishnava's
garb, who was not known to them. Mahendra was
offended. " Why do, smile, Gossain ? " he asked. " How "
he retorted, " could you get into the wood ? " " Anyhow
we have come in ! What's that to you ? " "Why can't you
then go out," the monk asked and began to smile again.
" You are making :a fun of it," said Mahendra in
anger ; " but could you go out yourself? "
" Come with me," said the Vaishnava, " I'll show you
the way out. You must have come in with one of our
monks. No one else knows the way to the place or out
of it."
At this Mahendra enquired, "Are you a Child ?"
" Yes, I am," he answered, " Come with me, I am
here only to show you the way."
4 6
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
" Your name, please ?" asked Mahendra.
" Dhirananda Goswami," said the Vaishnava and led
the way, Mahendra and Kalyani following. Dhirananda
took them out of the forest by a very hard passage
and himself turned back into the forest
Out of the forest there stretched forth a plain with
trees here and there. The highway ran close by the wood
with this plain on its other side. At one place a small
stream flowed in murmurs through the wood. The
water in it was very clear but black like a very dark
cloud. Beauteous green trees upon its banks shadowed
the stream and birds of all sorts were singing their
various melodies upon them. The music of their songs
mingled with the sweet murmur of the stream. So too
mingled the shadow of the tree with the water's sombre
hue, and, methinks, Kalyani's brooding mind too mingled
with their gloom in sympathy. Shesat under a tree by the
river and asked her husband to sit by her. He did so and
Kalyani took her child from his arms. She took up her
husband's hand in hers and sat in silence for a while.
Then she asked, "I see you very sad today. Our danger
seems to be over now ; why then this gloom ? "
Mahendra sighed. " I am no longer mine," said he,
" I do not know what to do."
" Why," asked she.
" I shall tell you what happened after I lost you."
So saying Mahendra recounted the story at length.
" I too have suffered," said Kalyani, " great distress
and encountered great dangers. It will be no good
CHAPTER XII
47
to you to learn what I have suffered. I do not know how
I could sleep in the agony in which I was ; but I did fall
asleep towards the end of last night. I then dreamed that
I had gone, by what virtue I do not know, to a strange
place. There was no earth there. It was all light,
sweet and cool light like the streaks let down through a
break in the clouds. There was no man there, but living
forms beaming with light ; no sound, but a low melody
like the echoes of a sweet distant music. A fragrance was
there like that of myriads of flowers — mallika, malati,
gandkaraj, all blooming and ever fresh. In a place above
all there sat one who shone as though a blue hill was slow-
ly burning and glowing from within. A large fiery crown-
jewel was on his head. He had four hands. On his
two sides there were what I could not well see —
perhaps female figures $ but such was their glow and
such their fragrance that I fainted to look at them
and could not see who they were. Before the four-
handed form stood a female — also glorious, but shaded
by clouds dimming her glory. You could faintly
see that she was a lean but beautiful suffering
woman and that she was weeping. A balmy and
fragrant breeze seemed to waft me on its waves to the
feet of the four-handed figure. The clouded lean
woman pointed to me and said, ' This is she ; it is for
her that Mahendra does not come to me.' Then a very
clear and melodious note like that of a lute sounded, and
the four-handed figure said to me : 1 Leave your husband
and come to me. This is the mother of you all, your,
48
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
husband will serve her. If you stay with him she will
not be served. So come away.' I wept and said I
could not leave my husband. Again the answer rang
out in the melody of a lute : ' I am the husband, I the
mother, I the father, I the son and I the daughter ; come
to me.' I do not recollect what I said, but then I
awoke ! " So saying she stopped and remained silent.
Mahendra was quite overcome with amazement and
fear. The Doyel rang her melody overhead, the
Papiya flooded the skies with her music, and the cuckoo
rang the quarters to the echo ; the Bhringaraj shook
the woods with her sharp and clear song ; the rivulet
murmured softly at their feet ; the wind wafted the
odours of wild flowers. Here and there the sun danced
and glistened in the ripples and waved by the gentle wind,
the palm-leaves made a cracking sound at times. The
blue hills were ranged at a distance. In their emotion the
pair sat mute for a while. After a very long time
Kalyani asked again : " What are you musing about ? "
u I was thinking what to do," said he : " dreams are
but scares, they grow in the mind and melt in it. They
are the shadows of life. Come, let us go home."
Kalyani said, " Do go where the gods want you to
go " and handed over the girl to him.
Mahendra took up the daughter and asked : " And
you ? Where would you go ?"
Kalyani covered her eyes with her hands, pressed her
forehead with her fingers and said : " I too shall go
where the god has asked me to go." Mahendra started
CHAPTER XII
49
up. " Where ? How could you go, " he cried. Kalyani
showed him the pill-box of poison.
Mahendra was amazed and said u what, you'll take
poison ?" " I thought I would " she slowly said, " but " —
she stopped and mused in silence. Mahendra looked to
her in anxious suspense — a moment then seemed to be an
age. Seeing that Kalyani did not finish her sentence,
he asked her as to what she was going to say. "I
thought I'd take it," repeated she, "but \ have no mind
even to go to Baikuntha leaving you and Sukumari be-
hind. I can not die."
So saying Kalyani put the poison on the ground, and
they began to talk of their past and their future.
Gradually they became quite absorbed in their talk
and got abstracted. In the meantime the girl took up
the poison box in her hand unobserved.
Sukumari thought it was quite a nice plaything.
Holding it in her left hand she clapped it well with her
right Then she took it in her right hand and clapped it
well with her left and then began to pull it with both
hands. The pill-box thus flew open and the pill rolled
down.
Sukumari saw the little pill fall on her father's cloth
and fancied it was another toy to play with. She
threw away the box and picked up the pill.
It is strange Sukumari did not put the pill-box into
her mouth, but in respect of the pill she did not make
the slightest delay in doing so. " So soon as you get it,
eat it " says the adage, and she instantly put the ball
4
50
THE ABBEY Of BLISS
into her mouth. Just then her mother turned her eyes
upon the child.
"Alack a day," said the mother, "what has she taken ?"
She promptly thrust her finger into the mouth of the
child. It was then that they saw the pill-box lying
empty. Sukuman thought it quite a jolly game ; she
pressed her teeth — she had only a few of them and smiled
at her mother. But perhaps the taste of the poison began
to disagree with her ; so she presently loosened her teeth
and Kalyani threw away the pill from the mouth. The
girl began to weep.
The pill remained on the ground. Kalyani soaked
her skirt in the stream, washed her daughter's face with
water and anxiously asked Mahendra if anything had
gone down her stomach.
Under such circumstances it is the worst that comes
uppermost in the mind of parents. Where there is love
there is always fear. Mahendra had never seen before
how big the pill was, but he took it up, gazed at it for
some time and said, " Most likely she has swallowed
a great deal."
Kalyani easily believed that. She too took the pill
and examined it. In the meantime the girl became
slightly out of sorts for the little that she had swallowed.
She began to fidget and cry and grew very weak in the
end. Kalyani then told Mahendra : " There is nothing
more to be done now ; Sukumari has gone the way the
gods have pointed, 1 too must folio ;v " So saying Kalyani
threw the pill into her mouth and instantly swallowed it.
CHAPTER XII
Mahendra cried out in agony : " Kalyani, dearest,
what hast thou done ?"
Kalyani made no answer but took the dust of her
husband's feet and said : " My Lord, words will beget
more words and cause delay ; let me now part."
"Kalyani, Kalyani ! What hast thou done ? " cried
Mahendra and rang the skies with lamentations. Softly
she answered, " IVe done well, for you may not neglect
the work of the gods for the sake of a woman. I was
about to disobey the gods, and see, I have lost my
daughter. Who knows you would not go too if I dis-
obeyed further ?"
" I could have left you somewhere," cried Mahendra,
weeping bitterly, " and when the work was done I might
have been happy again in your company, Kalyani, my
dearest, why did you do this ? The hand with which I
would have wielded the sword you have cut down. What
am I without you ?"
" Where could you take me ?" she answered. "Where
is there a place for me ? My parents and friends have
all died in the dire famine. Who else has got a place
for me? Where have I a place to go to ? Where could
you take me ? I am your stumbling block. It is well
that I die. Bless me that I may meet you again in that
glorious region of my dreams." So saying Kalyani took
the dust of his feet again. Mahendra wept and could
make no reply. Kalyani spoke again — her voice was
very soft, very sweet and very loving — " Who is there
that can undo the will of the gods," she asked, "the gods
5*
THE ABBEY OP BLISS
have asked me to go, could I have stayed if 1 would ? No,
somehow I must have died. It is well, therefore, that I die
now. The vow that you have taken, fulfil it with all your
heart ; you will acquire spiritual merit. With that I may
go to Heaven, and we two shall enjoy Heaven for
eternity."
Now the girl recovered herself by vomiting, for the
quantity of the drug that she had taken was very small.
But for that Mahendra had not much attention to spare.
He put the girl in her mother's lap, held them in a warm
embrace and wept incessantly. At that time there rose
from the woods a soft but solemn voice singing the
names of the god Vishnu in his character as chastiser of
wrong-doers.
The poison had began to act and Kalyani's con-
sciousness was slowly subsiding. She seemed to hear the
melodious voice that had greeted her ears in Baikuntha
in the dream she had. What a song and what a voice !
She began to sing herself.
Kalyani now asked Mahendra to join. Mahendra
too was moved by music that came from the woods
and the sweet melody of Kalyani's voice. He felt too
that the gods alone could help him and so he joined in
their song.
The music then rang from all sides. It seemed as if
the very birds had caught the refrain of their song and
the murmuring stream was echoing in sympathy.
Mahendra forgot his grief and sang in ecstacy, join-
ing his voice with Kalyani's. It seemed as if the woods
CHAPTER XII
53
also sang with the same music in symphony. Kalyani's
voice grew fainter and fainter, but still she sang on.
By and by her voice grew still. Words could not come
out from her mouth, her eyes were shut and her body grew
cold — Mahendra knew she had departed for Baikuntha,
with the name of the Lord on her lips. Then, frantic with
grief, he rang the woods and made the birds start in
their nests with his wild song.
At that time, some one came and held him in
deep embrace ; and before the body of her who was
on the way to eternity, the two sang — inspired by the
glory of the Eternal Himself — His glorious name. Birds
and beasts were still, and the world was flooded with
beauty — it seemed a very tabernacle for glorifying the
name of the Lord. Satyananda sat down there with
Mahendra in his lap.
Chapter XIII
In the meantime there was a feeling of unrest in the
streets of the capital. The report had got abroad that the
sannyasis had looted the money which was being sent
from the royal treasury to Calcutta. A royal mandate was
issued and sepoys and footmen were all scouring
the country in quest of ascetics. Now, in that famine-
stricken land there was scarcely a genuine ascetic at the
time. For the ascetics lived on charity and the people
were in no hurry to give them alms by starving them-
selves. So all true sannyasis had repaired to such Holy
Cities as Benares and Allahabad. Only the Children used
to don the ascetic's robes when they chose, and put them
away when necessary, Seeing trouble ahead, most of them
had left their saffron robes, and the famished troops of
the king, unable to catch hold of a single sannyasi, broke
into private dwelling-houses, scratched a wretched meal
out of the empty kitchen-utensils which they smashed
to pieces and retired. Satyananda alone never left this
saffron robe *
Just at the time when Mahendra and Satyananda,
A
locked in deep embrace, were praying to God with tears
in their eyes, on the bank of the dark murmuring
stream and beside the highway where Kalyani lay in de-
ath, Nazaraddi Jamadar put in his appearance at the
* This is one of the Homeric nods of our author, for when we. meet him
first, Satyananda, the reader will see, wore " a milk-white garb.'
CHAPTER XIII
55
place with a posse of sepoys. Without the slightest
hesitation he put his hand on Satyananda's neck and
cried out : "This rogue is a sannyasi," Another caught
Mahendra at the same time ; for, in sooth, as his
associate he must also be a sannyasi himself. Another
again was making for Kalyani's body which was
stretched on the grass; but he found that it was the
corpse of a female and might not be a sannyasi for
aught he knew — and left her. He left the child too,
thinking likewise. Without another word they then
bound up the two and prepared to carry them away, —
Kalyani's body and her daughter lay there under a
tree without any body to take care of them.
Mahendra was first stupefied with grief and only half-
conscious in his ecstasy. He could not quite under-
stand what was going on and did not object to being
tied up. But as he went a few steps, he suddenly real-
ised that they had been taken prisoners. No sooner
did the thought strike him that Kalyani's body lav-
there uncremated, that his child was left behind
uncared for, and that they might now be eaten up by
beasts of prey, than he threw asunder his hands and
the knot was snapped at a pull. Kicking the Jamadar
down to the ground in an instant he threw himself
upon a sepoy. The other three sepoys then rushed on
him and worsted and imprisoned him again. Weighed
down with sorrow, he said to Satyananda : "If you
had but helped me a bit we could have killed all the
five miscreants."
56
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
" What strength is there left to my old arms ? " said
Satyananda. " I have no power other than He whom J
was calling. Do not try to oppose the inevitable. We
could not beat down these five. Let us rather see where
they take us — God will look to everything."
They then followed the sepoys without making any
further attempt to get free. After they had gone some
way, Satyananda said to the sepoys : " My friends, I am
in the habit of chanting Harznam — Is there any objec-
tion to my doing so now ?" The Jamadar thought the
monk was a good fellow ; so he said, " You may chant
the name of your Lord, I won't object. You are an old
monk and I think you will be, very likely, released ; but
this wretch, no doubt, will be hanged. " Then the
Brahmachari sang in a low tone :
"In the wood beside the stream
Fanned by zephyr mild
Lies a beauty ; haste thee, hero,
Weeping, is Sukumari wild" — *
On reaching the town they were taken to the Kot-
wal. He sent information to the headquarters and
kept them in confinement in the meantime. The lock-up
where they were kept was dismal, for, who went into it
scarcely came out again, there being nobody to adminis-
ter, justice. It was not the gaol of the English Govern-
ment, for the day of the English rule had not yet come.
* This is a clever adaptation of one of the beautiful couplets of the Gita-
«07.inda of Jayadeva. There the verse refers to Krishna sitting in ihc
grove beside the Jamuna and urging Radha to hasten there.
CHAPTER XIII
57
Now is the reign of law and order — those were the days
of anarchy and misrule. You can not compare the days
of order with days when law and order were flouted.
Chapter XIV
It was night Confined within the cell, Satyananda
said to Mohendra : " what a happy day is this ! for, we
have been imprisoned. Say " Han Murari."
" Hari Murari " said Mahendra in a fainting voice.
" Why do you seem to be so crest-fallen, friend,"
asked Satyananda to Mahendra. " On taking the vow
you would have no option but to renounce your wife and
child ; no relation with them would have subsisted ; why
grieve then now ?"
"To renounce is one thing," said Mahendra, "to be
parted by death is quite another. The power which
would have strengthened my nerves in taking the vow
has now left me with my wife and child."
" Strength you will have" said Satyananda, " I will
give it to you. Be initiated in the great doctrine and
take up'our noble mission."
Mahendra was disgusted. " My wife and daughter,"
he said, "are the food of dogs and jackals and you are
speaking to rne now of vows and missions."
"Be easy ion that score" said Satyananda, " the
Children must have duly cremated your wife and taken
your daughter to a safe asylum."
Mahendra was surprised to hear this ; he did not
quite believe it. " How could you know ? " he asked,
"you have all along been with me." "We are initiated,"
said Satyananda, "in=a noble vow; the gods do favour
CHAPTER XIV
59
us. You will know this even to-night, and to-night you
shall be free."
Mahendra did not speak. Satyananda felt that he
doubted him and said : " You do not seem to believe me,
you may try what I say." He then went up to the door.
Mahendra did not see in the dark what he did ; but he
knew that he talked to somebody.
When he returned Mahendra asked : " How may I
try it."
" You will be free even now," said Satyananda.
And as he said this, the prison door flew open and a
man entered the cell.
" Who is Mahendra Singha," he enquired. " It is
me" said Mahendra. " You have been ordered to be set
free," said the man, " you may go."
Mahendra was astonished ; and then thought it to
be a hoax. But he meant to see what it was, and he
walked out No one stopped him and he went up to
the highway.
In the meantime the man said to Satyananda : " My
liege, why do you not go too ? It is for you that I have
come."
" Who are you ? " inquired Satyananda. " Are you
Dhirananda Gossain ? "
Dh. Yes, sire.
S. How could you come to be a warder here?
D. Bhabananda sent me out. Coming to the town I
heard that you were in the cell and got some hemp
mixed with Datura. The Khan Saheb who was mounting
Go
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
guard on you is just now lying fiat on the ground under
the influence of the drug. The uniform and the spear
that I have donned are his.
S. You just walk out of the town in that dress. I
will not go in this way.
D. Why, how is it ?
S. To-day will the Children be tried.
At that moment Mahendra came back.
" Why have you come back," asked Satyananda.
" You must be a man of miraculous powers," said
Mahendra ; " I wont leave your company."
" Then stay," said Satyananda, " we will both be
released tonight."
Dhirananda went out. Satyananda and Mahendra
stayed in the cell.
Chapter XV
Many people had heard Satyananda's song and
among them was Jivananda. The reader may remem-
ber that he had orders to follow and watch Mahendra. In
so doing he met a woman on the way who had not had
food for seven days and lay on the road side. Jivananda
had to wait for sometime to revive her. Having done so,
he was coming after his errand calling the woman all
sorts of names, for, sooth, it was she that delayed him.
Now he saw his master being taken captive by the
Mussulmans and heard him singing as he went. Jiva-
nanda understood all signs of the master.
lf In the wood beside the stream, fanned by zephyr
mild, lies a beauty " so sang the master. u Now, here's
fine business — another starving wench lying on the river
side, I trow," thought Jivananda and walked along the
bank. He had seen the master being himself taken away
by the Mussulmans and, of course, his first work would
be to deliver him.
But he saw that this sign did not mean that ; and the
first lesson he had from him was that obeying him was
greater than saving his life. He would, therefore, perform
his command, he decided.
Jivananda walked along the river side, and on the
way found a female body and a living child under a tree.
Jivananda had never seen Mahendra's wife and child,
but he thought these might be his, for he had seen
62
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
Mahendra In the company of his master. Now, the
mother was dead but the daughter was alive ; so to save
her was the first consideration for else she might be
killed by beasts of prey.
" Bhavananda Thakur must be somewhere here, and
he will cremate the woman" thought Jivananda, and
went away with the girl in his arms.
With the girl in his arms Jivananda entered the
dense forest and crossing it came to a small village.
Its name was Bhairavipur but people called it Bha-
ruipur. There lived in this village a few humble men.
There was no big village near about and beyond the
village was the jungle again — it was in fact a little vil-
lage surrounded by jungles all round ; but it was very
beautiful.
There were big pasture lands covered over with soft
grass. There were gardens containing mango, jack,
jambolan and palm trees with soft green leaves and a
blue and limpid tank within. In the water there was
the crane, the duck and the gallmule ; ashore there were
the cuckoo and the noisy goose ; at some distance the
peacock screamed at intervals ; in each house there was
a cow in the yard and an empty granary ; but there
was no paddy anywhere in those dark days. One had a
Myna in a cage, there was painting on another's wall,
and a herbarium in another's yard. All were famine-
stricken, weak, lean and miserable. Still the men of this
village showed signs of well-being ; — there were various
kinds of fruits growing in the forest ; and with these
CHATTER XV
63
the villagers had managed to keep body and soul
together.
Within a mango grove stood a little house. It was
made up of four huts surrounded by a mud wall. The
owner of the house had a cow, a goat, a peacock, a myna
and a parrot. He had had a monkey too, but had let
it off as he could feed it no longer. He had a husking
mill, a granary and a lemon tree in the yard, with some
malika and jasmine trees which had no flowers this
year. On the veranda of each hut stood a spinning
wheel. There were not many people in the house however.
This was the house Jivananda entered with the child.
On entering the house Jivananda began to make
a horrid noise with a spinning wheel. The little
girl had never in her life heard such noise. She was
weeping since she had left her mother, and now began to
cry lustily. Then a girl of seventeen or eighteen sum-
mers came out of the room and putting the forefinger
of her right hand on her cheek she bent her head and
stood watching in wonder ; "La ! it's your brother ! why,
what are you working the wheel for ? Where could
you get the girl? Is it yours? Have you got one? Have
you married again ?" she asked mischievously.
Jivananda threw the child into her arms, showed
her his fist, and said : " You wicked .wench, how dare
you speak of my daughter. Am I a man to trifle
with? Now go and see if you have got milk in the house."
The girl answered : "Yes, I have ; would you take
some ?" "Yes," replied Jivananda most seriously.
64 THE ABBEY OP BLISS
Then the girl forthwith went to warm some milk and
Jivananda found congenial occupation in turning the
spinning-wheel awhile. The child, since it came to
the young woman, never thought of crying. We don't
know what it thought — perhaps it took the girl for its
mother, finding her as lovely as a lotus in full bloom.
But perhaps the flame had slightly seared her and she
cried once. On hearing it Jivananda shouted out : "O
Nimi, you wicked wench ; what are you about? Haven't
finished warming the milk yet ?"
"Yes, brother," answered Nimi,"! have finished,"
and she poured the milk in a stone cup and brought it
to Jivananda.
Jivananda pretended to be mightily angry and said :
" I have half a mind to throw this hot milk in your face.
You think I should be drinking the milk, Eh ?"
" Who'll take it then?," asked Nimi.
" Don't you see the girl ? Feed her with this, would
you?," said Jivananda.
Nimi then squated down on the floor, laid the girl on
her lap and began to feed her with a spoon. A few drops
of tears however rolled down her cheek. She had had
a son who was dead and the spoon with which she fed
the girl now belonged to him. She instantly wiped her
eyes, however and smiled as she asked, "Do tell me,
brother, whose daughter it is ?"
" What's that to thee, you naughty thing ?," retorted
Jivananda.
" Give me the girl, would you ?"
CHAPTER XV 6 c
" What will you do with her ?"
"I will feed her, nurse her, fondle her"— the wretched
tears would come again. Nimi wiped them off again
and smiled. " What will you do with it? You will
have many children, " said Jivananda.
Doesn't matter," said Nimi, "let me have her for
sometime at least. You may take her away later on."
" Keep her then, and go to the dogs with her. I shall
come and see her now and then. She is a Kayestha's
daughter, mind. Now I am off."
" What ! going ? Won't you take anything ? The
day is far advanced and you mustn't go without your
meal. You'll eat my head if you do."*
" To eat thy head and some food to boot ! Both of
these I can't, dear sister. Do just spare the head and
give me a dish of rice if you please."
Nimi then busied herself in getting up the dish for
her brother with the child in her arms.
She then placed a plank to sit on and cleaned a yard
or two of ground with water she had sprinkled before.
She then brought her brother some clean, jasmine-white
rice, some tasteful dal, a curry of wild figs, some fish
metted from her own tank and some milk. As he sat
down to eat, Jivananda said : " I say Nimi, sister, who
says there's famine here ? In your village you don't seem
to have it."
* This is a common imprecation which affectionate people — females
particularly— always use as a means of persuasion.
5
66
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
" Oh no !" said Nimi, " there's plenty of distress here.
But we are only two souls, what we have with us
we eat ourselves and give some to our neighbours.
Don't you remember we had some rain— you said rains
do fall in woods. Well, for that we could raise some
crops even this year. Others sold them but we did not."
"Where's your husband," asked Jivananda. Nimi
looked down and softly said : " He's out with a few
seers of rice to give to somebody."
Now Jivananda had not had such a hearty meal for
many a day. So he did not waste any more time in talk ;
he finished up the repast in a very short time, making
all sorts of odd sounds as he ate. Now Mrs. Nimaimani
had cooked for herself and her husband only and out of
it she gave away her share of meal. Seeing the plate
quite empty now, she was a little disconcerted and
poured upon it her husband's share also. Without the
least hesitation Jivananda despatched it all to the huge
cavity ycleped the stomach.
Then Nimai asked " Would you have anything more,
brother ?"
" What more can you give ?"
" We have a ripe jack-fruit." Nimi brought it up and
without a murmur Jivananda despatched that too down
that abysmal cavity. Nimi then smiled and said, " I
have got nothing more to offer to you."
" Then go," said the brother, " I shall come and eat
another day."
Nimi then gave him water to wash his hands and
CHAPTER XV
67
mouth. As she was pouring it over his hands, she said :
" Brother, would you keep a request from me?"
" What's it, " asked the brother.
" By my head you will have to."
" You naughty thing, why not tell me ?"
" Say you will do it."
" First tell me what it is."
" You'll eat my head if you don't I beseech you, I
fall at your feet."
" Well, I agree that I eat thy head and you fall at
my feet — but what is the matter can you tell me ?"
Nimi then placed the fingers of one of her hands
within those of another, bent her head, and looked at
them intently ; then she looked at her brother's face
and then looked to the ground till at last she broke out
« Shall I call the Bow ?"*
Jivananda picked up a the brass pitcher and aimed it
at his sister's head, exclaiming in feigned anger : " Give
me back the child and I shall give thee back the rice
and dal that I have taken. You monkey of a girl —
mischievous wench how dare you speak of things to me
which you should never mention ?"
Nimi said : " I grant that I am all that you say, but
shall I call your wife ?"
" 1 am off," said Jivananda and made for the door.
Nimi bolted it and stood before it. "You must kill
me, " said she, " before you go. You shall not go with-
out seeing your wife."
* A brother's wife is called a Bow.
68
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
" Do you know/' said Jivananda in feigned anger,
" how manv men I've killed ?"
Nimi grew very much offended. "A great thing that
to brag of, to be sure I" said She. " You'll desert your
wife and kill people and you think I will fear you.
Never think of that, for, mind you, we are children of
the same parents. If killing is a great thing you may as
well kill me and brag of it."
Jivananda smiled and said : " Go and fetch her, — the
wretch. But mind, if you speak to me like this again, I
may spare you but I'll cut the hairs off the head of the
rogue of your husband and with whey on his shaven
knoll make him ride a donkey with tail foremost"*
Nimi said in an undertone, " I wouldn't be half sorry
for it," and went away smiling. She then entered a
cottage close by, in which a woman with shaggy hairs
was spinning on a wheel with a tattered rag on. Nimi
went and said " Bow, quick, quick."
11 Well, what's it, why are you in such a hurry ? Thy
husband has beaten thee and I am to oil thy sores ; is
it?," said the'Bow smiling.
" Very much near the mark/' said Nimi, " have you
got oil in the room ?"
* I have translated the joke literally as to rerder it in any other way
would have been hopeless. The brother-in-law is a licensed joker and a
butt of jokes himself in Bengali Society. Shaving of one's head, bathing
in whey, and making one ride a donkey specially with the tail foremost is
regarded as a great indignity, "and people were usually put to such
punishments by tyrants of yore. The threat of this indignity is a common
joke in Bengal.
CHAPTER XV
69
The woman brought out her oilpot and Nimi quickly
took some oil out of it in her hand, rubbed the Bow's
hairs with it, hastily dressed her hair up into a passable
knot She then gave her an affectionate little blow
with her hand and cried " Where is thy Dacca sari?"
The woman was a little surprised and said, " Well ! you
are off your mind, it seems !"
Nimi gave her another blow and said " Get it out,
you wretch."
. She brought out the sari for the fun of it ; —unhappy
though she was, she was not lost to the fascination of fun.
She was young and her youthful form was as lovely as
a blooming lotus. In her complexion there was the
vision of dreamland, in her eyes the wistful glance of
youth, on her lips the ever brightening smile, and
deep down her heart a fund of patience and forbearance.
Though going on half-rations, she did not seem to have
lost much grace and beauty — a beauty that scorned em-
bellishr ents and shone forth in full glow. Like the light-
ning hid by clouds, like genius not yet revealed, like
music in the world of sounds, like happiness in the gloom
of death, her beauty had something inexpressibly sweet
in it — inexpressible softness, nobleness, and love and
devotion.
Smiling she brought out the sari and asked : " Here
you are, Nimi ! What will you do with it?"
" You'll put it on," said Nimi.
" What then ? "
Nimi then lovingly coiled her lovely arms round her
70
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
lovely neck and said "My brother has come here and
asked you to go to him."
" What's the use of this sari then ? Let me go as
1 am."
Nimi gave her a slap ; the bow dragged her by her
shoulder out of the hut and said, " Come, I'll meet him
in these rags" and obstinately refused to change her
clothes. Nimi took her to the door of her house and,
thrusting her in, banged the door and waited outside.
Chapter XVI
The Bow was aged twenty-five but she did not look
a day older than Nimi. As she entered the house in her
rags, it seemed to be lit up with her grace — as if many
budding flowers which had been lying hidden under
leaves suddenly burst out in bloom — as if a bottle of
rose water which lay tight corked had been suddenly
broken up — as if some body had thrown the incense into
a smouldering fire which burst into flame and fragrance.
On entering the house she looked about for her husband.
She could not find him at once. Then she saw that,
laying his head on the trunk of a small mango tree that
stood in the yard, Jivananda stood weeping. She slowly
walked up to him and held him by his hand. We do
not say that her eyes did not grow wet — Heaven knows
that the stream that rushed to her eyes could drown
Jivananda if it were allowed to flow. But she restrained
herself and with her husband's hand in hers, said, "Don't
weep dear, I know you are weeping for me, but I am
quite happy with my present life."
Jivananda looked up, wiped his eyes, and asked his
wife i " Dear, why are you in this tattered garb ? I did
not certainly leave you in want."
"Your wealth," said Santi, " I have kept for you. I
do not know what to do with money. When you come
back and take me back as your wife — "
72
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
"Take you back!," interrupted Jivananda, " I have
not deserted you, Santi."
" No, you have not — but when you have fulfilled
your vow, when you are free to love me again" —
She could not finish, for Jivananda held her in deep
embrace and placing his head on her shoulder stood still
for a while. He sighed at last and said : " Ah ! wherefore
did I see you again ?"
"Why, indeed said Santi, "you must have broken
your vow ?"
" That matters little, I may expiate the transgression,
— but I cannot make up my mind to go back, having
seen you once again. It is for this that I told Nimi that
it was no use seeing you now. I cannot return when
once I have seen you. All the desirable things of earth,
all vows, sacrifices and prayers, are weighed against you
in the scales. I cannot always tell which would kick
the beam. What shall I do with the country ? You are
my everything. With you I could build up a heaven in
any plot of land on God's earth. Why should I fight
for the country ? The people are suffering? But who
suffers more than the wretch who has to abandon a
wife like you ? Who is poorer than the husband who
sees you in torn rags ? You are the support of all my
piety ; what do I care for the religion which asks me give
up my greatest support. For what merit do I add to my
crop of sins by trampling over lands and woods, gun
in hand, and killing and slaying right and left ? I
donot know if the world will ever come under the
CHAPTER XVI
11
sway of The Children but I know this that you are
entirely in my power — you who are greater than the
world and are a heaven to me. — Come, let us go home.
I will not go back."
Santi could not speak for some time. She then
slowly said, " For shame, my love ! You are a hero and
my greatest pride in life is that I am a hero's spouse.
You will forsake the hero's duty for the petty sake of
the trifle that a woman is ! Do not love me — I do not
want the pleasure, — but grant me this that you will
never swerve from the path of a hero's duty. But do
tell me one thing before you go. What have you got
to do to expiate this transgression ?"
"Well, a trifle — fasting, a gift of 12 Kahans of
cotvrie"
Santi smiled and said," I know what it is ; now, is the
expiation the same for many faults as for one ?"
Jtvananda was startled and asked in distress: "What
do you mean by this ?"
"I have got a prayer to make — do not make the
expiation before you see me again."
Jivananda smiled. " You needn't fear that " he said,
" I could not die before seeing you. In fact I am in
no hurry to die. I won't stay here longer, I cannot have
my fill of looking at you now, but I am sure I will have
the opportunity some day. Our desire will one day be
fulfilled. I will go now ; but you must keep one request
from me — you must give up this dress and go and live
in my ancestral home."
THE ABBEY OF BL/SS
Santi enquired as to where he intended to go from
there.
" I will go to the abbey now to look for the master.
I am rather anxious for the wav in which he has crone
to the town. If I don't find him in the temple I will
go to town."
Chapter XVII
Bhavananda sat in the temple chanting Harinatna
when Jnanananda, a spirited Child, came up to him.
" How now, Goswami," asked Bhavananda, " why do
you look so grave ?"
" All is not well," said Jnanananda, " for that job
of yesterday, the Muslims are catching every soul in
saffron robes they can get hold of. All the Children
have left their saffron garments to-day, but Master
Satyananda has gone alone with them towards the town.
I donot know but he may fall into the hands of
the Mussulmans."
" That Mussulman does not breathe in Bengal," said
Bhavananda, " who can keep him confined. I know
Dhirananda has followed him. Still I'll go and have a
walk in the town. You just look after the Abbey."
So saying Bhavananda retired to a private chamber
and got out some clothes from a large trunk. He was
then suddenly transformed ; the saffron robe gave place
to the pyjama, mtrsai t and Kaba and the head was ador-
ned by amama and the feet by Nagra shoe. He wiped
off the prints of sandal from the face and his handsome
face stood out beautifully against his dark beards and
moustaches. He then looked quite like a Mougal youth.
Thus dressed, Bhavananda started off after provid-
ing himself with arms. About two miles from the place
were two small hills overgrown with jungles. Between
7 6
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
the two hills was a secluded place where several horses
were kept. It was the stable of the monks. Bhavananda
got a horse from among them and rode townward.
He was suddenly stopped on the way ; for, on the
bank of the murmuring stream beside the road, he found
a female figure lying like a star dropped from the
sky or a flash of lightning weaned from its home in
the clouds. He saw that there was no sign of stirring
life, and an empty pill-box lay beside her. Bha-
vananda was startled, pained and awed. He too like
Jibananda had not seen Mahendra's wife and child ;
and he had not before him the circumstances which
led Jivananda to suspect this to be Mohendra's wife.
He had not seen the master and Mahendra being carried
away together as prisoners nor did he see the daughter
there. From the pill-box he inferred that some woman
must have poisoned herself. He alighted from his horse,
sat by the body and mused for a time with his hand
on his forehead. He examined the head, the armpits,
hands and feet of the body and tried other signs unknown
to others. He then said to himself: " There is time yet,
but what shall I gain by reviving her ? " He thus mused
for some time and at last entered the woods, and shortly
after, returned with some leaves. He pressed the leaves
between his hands and forced some juice into the mouth
by parting her lips and jaws ; some of it he poured into
the nose and with the rest began to smear the body. He
repeated the process and, now and again, put his hand
to the nose to feel the breath. It seemed as if all was
CHAPTER XVII
77
in vain, but after a long trial Bhavananda's face grew
bright — he felt a faint breath in his fingers. He
then smeared the body with more juice and breath
began to grow fuller. Feeling the pulse, he felt that it
had grown quick. Then Kalyarri slowly opened her
eyes like the morning glow as it first dawns in the east
or the blooming of the lotus as it first opens its eyes
of a morn or the sweet breath of love when first it blows
on human heart. Bhavananda then took up the half-
revived body on his horse and rode off with it to town.
Chapter XVIII
Before it was night every one in the Society of the
Children knew that Satyananda and Mahendra were
prisoners in the gaol of the town. Then the Children
began to come in by tens and hundreds and
soon filled the woods surrounding the temple. Every
one of them was armed ; every one had fire in the eye,
pride in his mien and resolution at heart At first they
were a hundred men, then a thousand, then two
thousand and so the numbers went on increasing.
Then, sword in hand, Jnanananda stood at the gate of
the temple and spoke aloud : — " We have often thought
to break up this bird's nest of Moslem rule, to pull
down the city of the renegades and throw it into the
river — to burn this pig-sty to ashes and make mother
earth free from evil again. Friends, that day has come.
Our great master, who is great above everybody else and
is limitless in his knowledge, who is ever pure, and is a
patriot and a well-wisher of his people, who has pledged
his life for the revival of the True Religion, whom we
look upon as an incarnation of Vishnu — this man has
been imprisoned in the gaol of the Mussulmans. Friends,
are our swords not sharp enough?" he stretched his arm
and said " do not our arms carrv strength enough " —
and stroked his breast and said " have we not courage
in our hearts ? Friends, by the name of the Lord —
the slayer of Hiranyakasipu, Dantabakra, Sisupala and
CHAPTER XV H
79
other mighty asuras — our arms are inspired with
infinite strength — God is almighty and if he so wills
ours shall be the victory. Come, let us go and break
the infidel city down to dust, purify the pig-sty with
fire and throw it into water, break up the swallow's nest
and throw its heather to the winds. Sing the name of
the Lord, oh Friends. "
At that time the woods rang with a thousand voices
crying in terrible tone the name of the Lord. A
thousand swords jingled at once — a thousand spears
shot up in the air with their heads, the clappings on
defiant arms made a sound like a thunder clap. A
thousand dkolas made a roaring sound in the rough
backs of the warriors. Beasts were scared away by the
noise, birds flew away from the woods in terror and
covered the sky. Hundreds of drums beat at once
and parties of the Children began to issue from the
woods in due array. With slow and solemn steps,
chanting Hari?iam aloud, they marched towards the
town in that dark night. The noise of the crumpling
of clothes, the clash of arms, the stifled voices and
occasional loud shouts of Haribol marked their march.
Slowly, solemnly, in ire and with fire, the army of the
Children entered the town and threw it into panic.
Overtaken by this sudden invasion, the townsmen fled as
best they could and the protectors of the town stood
amazed and still.
The first thing the Children did was to enter the
gaol which they broke and to kill the warders. They
So
THE ABBE Y OF BLISS
released Satyananda and Mahendra and began to dance
with joy and there was a great noise of Haribol. After
getting them out of goal, Children set fire to the houses
of the Mussulmans wherever they found them. Then
Satyananda said " Turn back, friends, it's no use to
make havoc where there is no need for it."
When news of these outrages of the Children reach-
ed the authorities they despatched a body of Pergunnah
Sepoys to suppress them. They had not only match-
locks but also a cannon with them. On their approach,
the Children issued from the Wood of Bliss and ad-
vanced to fight But what;could sticks and spears or a
score or two of muskets do before the cannon's mouth?
The Children were soon defeated and dispersed.
PART II
Chapter I
Santi had lost her mother early, and this was
one of the principal factors that went to the making
of her singular character. Her father was a Brahmin
of the Adhyapaka class and had no other woman in
the household. Naturally, when her father gave his
lessons to his class, Santi sat near him. At other times
she would play with the pupils who stayed under
her father's roof and they all loved and patted her.
The result of this constant association with males
in her childhood was that Santi did not learn to
dress like females or, having learnt to do so, gave it up.
She used to dress like a man with her koncha dangling
before her. If anybody made her wear her cloth like
a girl, she would instantly change it and wear it like
a boy again. The scholars of the tole did not dress their
hair, nor did Santi — and in sooth who was there that
could dress her hair into a knot. The scholars would
dress her hair with a wooden comb and her locks
flowed in curls upen her back and breast and hands and
cheeks. The scholars wore sandal prints. Santi did
likewise. She used to weep that she could not wear
the sacred thread, but all the same, when the boys sat
down to their morning and evening prayers, she did not
miss imitating their actions. * * *
Another result of it all was that as she grew older,
Santi began to learn what the scholars read. She did
6
82
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
not know a word of grammar but she got by heart
verses from Bhatti Kavya, Raghuvamsa, Kumarsam-
bhava, Naishadhacharita and other works with their
full explanations. The father saw this and thought
that "what will happen will happen" as the adage goes ;
so he began to teach her the Mughdhavodha Grammar.
Santi began to learn very quickly and astonished her
preceptor. He taught her one or two works on litera-
ture along with the grammar. And then everything got
confused, for her father now died.
Santi then became an orphan without a refuge. The
tole broke up and the scholars left the place. But they
loved Santi and could not leave her behind. One of
them very kindly took her to his house. This was the
man who later on joined the Society of Children and
took the name of Jivananda. We shall call him by his
adopted name.
Jivananda's parents were then alive. He acquainted
them with the whereabouts of the girl. "Now, who is
to bear the burden of this girl," they asked. "I have
brought her," Jivananda answered, " and I will do it."
The parents were agreeable. Jivananda was unmarried
and Santi had reached a marriageable age. So
Jivananda married her.
So soon, however, as the marriage was concluded,
every body began to repent of it. Everybody thought it
was a bad business, for Santi would not dress like a girl
nor make up her hair into a knot. She would not stay
within the house but persisted in going out to play with
CHAPTER I
33
the boys of the village. There was a jungle near Jiva-
nanda's house. She would enter it alone and hunt about
for a peacock or a deer or some rare fruits or flowers.
Now, the parents-in-law first remonstrated with Santi,
then soolded her, and even used the rod upon her and
at last began to lock her up. Santi was much chagrined
at this persecution, and, finding the door ajar one day,
made good her escape without letting anybody know it.
Once out in the woods, she picked up some flowers
and with their juice painted her cloth and dressed herself
up as a stripling of an ascetic. At that time, sannyasins
roamed in bands all over the country. Now, Santi in
her mendicant's clothes begged her way to the road to
Juggernauth. Presently a company of sannyasins
appeared on the road and Santi joined them.
Sannyasins of those days were not like the innocent
representatives of the class to-day. They were generally
a compact body, well-read, well-built, deft in the use of
arms and qualified in other ways. They were usually
a sort of rebels, for they plundered the king's treasures
everywhere. When they saw a stout and well-built
boy, they would kidnap him, give him proper training
and make him a member of their company. They were
therefore known as the boy-kidnappers.
Santi entered one of these companies as a young
sannyasin. At first they were not disposed to take her
in for the delicacy of her physique, but finding her sharp,
clever and active they gladly enrolled her, as one of
them. With them Santi had athletic exercises, learnt
84
THE ABBEV OF BUSS
the use of arms and soon grew hardy. She travelled
much with them, saw many scuffles and learnt many
kinds of work.
By and by the signs of youth made their appearance
and many people of the party had no doubt that she
was a woman in disguise. But sannyasins usually had
their impulses under restraint ; they knew it, but
winked at it.
There were many learned men among the Sannyasins.
One of them began to give lessons to Santi, on
seeing that she was fairly well up in Sanskrit. We
have said that the sannyasins had great self-control ;
but every one did not have it. This sannyasin had it
not ; or perhaps he began to be stung anew by amour, at
the sight of Santi's new-born and transcendent charms
on her accession to puberty. Santi was not injured
by his transparent tricks to gain her favour but
rather profited by them. She had never learnt the
modesty of her sex ; but now the woman in her nature
besran to come out on the surface. Her soul became
illumined by the lovely radiance of her faultless female
grace being cast on her mannish heart. She gave up
her study.
But the preceptor was obstinate. He rushed on
Santi whenever he saw her, as much as a hunter
would run after a doe. But by exercise Santi had
acquired strength which was not always possible for a man
to cultivate, and when the preceptor approached him
she always propitiated him with a plentiful offering of
CHAPTER I
kicks and cuffs — and they were not easy to swallow in all
conscience. Finding her alone one day the sannyasin
caught her tightly by the hand. Santi could not free
her hand ; but, as ill-luck would have it, it was her
left hand. With her right she gave him such a blow on
his forehead that the sannyasin rolled senseless on the
ground. Santi then deserted the party and fled.
She was an intrepid girl and made for her village
alone. With her courage and strength she easily suc-
ceeded in getting on without difficulty. Feeding' herself
on charity or upon wild fruits, and victorious in the
many scuffles she had on the way, Santi arrived at last
in her father-in-law's house and found that her
father-in-law was dead. Her mother-in-law would not
take her in for fear of losing her caste. So, Santi went
out again.
Jivananda was then at home and he followed her
Meeting Santi on the way he asked, " Why did you
leave my house? Where had you been so long ? " Santi
gave out the whole truth. Jivananda could know truth
from falsehood and readily believed her.
Now Cupid, who delights in a flowery bow, does
not care to waste on a wedded couple his missiles —
built with the sweet amorous glance of heavenly
beauties an d illumined by the lustre of their madden-
ing eye-lashes. The English light their roads even
on a full- moon night, and the Bengali would pour oil
on a head wet with it ; not so with men alone, — the
moon too sometimes delights in displaying herself
86
7 HE ABBEY 0? BLISS
when the sun is shining ; Indra showers his rain on
the sea ; Kuvera carries wealth to the coffers that
overflow with it ; Death takes away the man who is
most wanted by his friends and people. Only Cupid is
never guilty of such prodigal folly. So soon as a bridal
tie is complete he avoids the pair and, leaving them
entirely to Prajapati (Hymen), goes looking about for
somebody else whose heart's blood he might drink.
But perhaps the god of the flowery bow had no work
at hand now, and so he accidentally wasted two flowery
arrows here. One pierced Jivananda's heart, and an-
other fell on Santi's and made her aware for the first
time in her life that it was after all a woman's heart — a
very soft thing. Like the flower-bud opened by the first
rain drop from the young clouds, Santi suddenly burst
to bloom and looked to Jivananda with smiling e)'es.
" I will not disown you said Jivananda, " You have
only to stay here till I come back."
Santi asked, "Are you sure you will come back ?"
Jivananda did not speak nor look any way, but under
the shade of the cocoanut grove beside the road, he
touched her lips with his and went away feeling that
he had drunk the heavenly sweet.
Jivananda excused himself to his mother and took
leave of her. His sister Nimi was recently married to
a person in Bhairabipur and some love had grown up
between Jivananda and his brother-in-law. Jivananda
took Santi to that place. The brother-in-law gave him
a bit of land. They built a hut on the spot and lived
CHAPTER I
there happily for some time. By her living with her
husband, Santi's mannish nature slowly disappeared or
was suppressed, and the loveliness of her woman's
heart daily developed. Their days passed off like a
pleasant dream.
But soon the dream vanished. Under the influence
of Satyananda, Jivananda adopted the creed of the
Children and left Santi. It was at Nimi's instance that
they met again for the first time after the separation —
a visit we have described in a previous chapter.
Chapter II
After Jivananda went away, Santi sat upon the
veranda of Nimai's cottage. There was no more any
tears in her eyes ; she had wiped her eyes, made herself
cheerful and was feigning a smile. She was however a
bit pensive and abstracted.
Nimai understood her and said, " Yet you 've met,
and that's a great deal."
Santi made no answer but remained silent. Nimai
saw she was not going to speak out her mind ; she
knew that Santi did not like to speak out her mind.
So she looked for another topic of conversation and
said " Look Bon/, how do you like this girl ? " " Where
could you get her," asked Santi, " I did not know you
had a daughter."
" Go to, you naughty thing," said Nimai, " It's not
mine, it is my brother's girl."
Nimai did not say this to tease Santi. By 'brother's
girl' she meant that she had got her from her brother.
But Santi did not take it that way j she thought it was
meant to irritate her and answered, " I did not want the
name of the father but of the mother of the child."
Nimai was rightly served and nonplussed ; so she
said : "Who knows, dear, whose girl this is ? My brother
picked it up from somewhere, I hadn't time to ask him
about it. But you see these are famine times and you
have plenty of people throwing away their children ;
CHAPTER II
S 9
many boys and girls were brought even to us for sale.
But who cares to take another's child "—(tears rushed to
her eyes as before, but she wiped them off and said)
" The girl is nice and plump and looked so lovely
that I begged her of my brother and got her."
Santi then had a long talk with Nimai on all sorts
of odd topics. Then Nimai's husband came and Santi left
for her cottage. Once in it, she shut the door, took some
ash out of the, oven, and put it apart. On the rest of it
'she poured the rice she had cooked for herself. Then
she stood thinking for a long time and mused within
herself: "What I have so long thought I will do to-
day. The hope that held me from doing it hitherto is
now realised. Has it been realised or has it failed ? —
It's failed. But life itself is a failure. What I have
thought I will do. The expiation for one offence is the
same as for a hundred."
So thinking Santi threw the rice into the oven, got
some fruits from the wood and took them instead.
Then she took out the Dacca Sari on which Nimai had
so set her heart and tore off its border. What remained
of it she dyed well in red ochre. It was dusk by the
time she had dyed and dried her cloth, and then she shut
the door and engaged herself in a curious work. She cut
off a part of her long and shaggy hair with a pair of
scissors and kept them apart. What remained on her
head she made up into braids. The rough hair was
changed into a head of braids beautifully set. Tearing
her saffron cloth into two, she wore one round her waist
90 THE ABBEY OF BLISS
and with the other covered her breast. There was a
little mirror in the room ; Santi recovered it from its
long exile and looked well at her dress in it. " Alas,"
said she, as she looked at it, " How am I to cover these ?"
She then threw away the glass and took up the hair
she had cut off and made them up into false beards and
moustaches. But she could not put them on. "For shame,"
she thought, "those days are gone and I cannot do it any
more. But it is good to have it at hand to give a
lesson to the old fellow." She then took out a large deer-
skin and tied it to her neck covering with it the whole of
her front up to the knees. Thus dressed, this new san-
nyasin looked on all sides from within the room. When
it was midnight Santi emerged from her house in the
dark and entered the deep forest. The nymphs of the
wood heard at dead of night the following song sung in
melodious strains :
"Trotting- on horseback where dost thou go ? "
"I go to the battle, tell me not — 'no' !
Hari, Hari, Hari, so shall I cry,
And spring to the fight prepared to die I
Who art thou ? Who's thine ? Why follow me
Victory ! 0 woman, I care not for thee P
"Prithee my dearest don't leave behind
Thy bride so suffering, be thou O kind !"
"Hark thee ! The music, victory it sings,
Thirsting for battle my war-horse it springs.
At home my mind, O, no more would be
Victory 1 O woman, I care not for thee !"
I
Chapter III
On the next day in one of the private chambers in
the Abbey of Bliss three dejected captains of The Children
were talking together. Jivananda asked Satyananda :
" Maharaj, why have the gods grown offended with
us ? For what fault have we been beaten by the
Mussulmans ? "
" The gods are not averse " said Satyananda. " In
warfare you have defeats as well as victories. The
other day we were victorious, to-day we are worsted. It
is the final victory that is worth the name. I am sure
that Vishnu who has ever been so kind to us with his
conch, disc, club and lotus will prove as kind again.
We will have to carry through the vow which we
have taken with the touch of His sacred foot. If we fail,
eternal Hell shall be our lot. I have no doubt about our
ultimate success, but we have to recognise that, as no
work can succeed without divine grace, so too is human
enterprize necessary for everything. The reason for our
defeat is that we have no arms. What can sticks and
spears do before cannons, guns and shot ? So we have
been beaten because we were wanting in enterprize.
What we have now to do is to see that we may not lack
those arms in future."
" It is a difficult thing/' said Jivananda. " Difficult,
Jivananda ! " answered Satyananda, in surprise. l< How
92
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
could you, being a Child, say that ? Is there anything
much too difficult for a Child!'' "Command, sire," returned
Jivananda, "how we might secure them." <c To secure
them I shall go to visit the shrines to-night," said Satya-
nanda, " Till I come back do not take up any serious
work. But preserve in the meantime the unity of The
Children, get them their food and clothing and replenish
their coffers for our mother's conquests. This is what I
charge you two with."
" I do not see," said Bhavananda, " how you could
get these things by visiting the shrines. It would create
a lot of noise to have guns and ammunition bought and
sent to this distance. Besides, where could you get
so many as we want ? Who will be selling them, or who
again will bring them down ? " " We could not do the
work by buying them at a distant place," said Satya-
nanda, " I shall send mechanics and you will have to
make them here."
" What ! here in this Abbey ?" exclaimed Jivananda.
" That can never be," Satyananda replied ; " I have
been thinking about it long and God has put an oppor-
tunity in our way to-day. You said God was averse to
us, I see that He is entirely in our favour."
" Where shall we liave the workshop ? " asked
Bhavananda.
S. At Padachinha.
J. How's that ? How could you do it in Pada-
chinha ?
S. If it was not for this what else was there for my
CHAPTER III
93
being so anxious about Mahendra's taking this great
vow ?
J. Has Mahendra taken the vow ?
S. Not yet, but he will. To-night I shall initiate
him.
J. We do not know what anxiety has been shown
to induce Mahendra Sinha to take the vow. What has
become of his wife and child ? Where have they been
kept ? I found a girl to-day beside the stream and have
left her with my sister. Beside her lay a beautiful
woman. Can it be, that they are the wife and child of
Mahendra ? I thought it was so.
S. They are Mahendra's wife and child.
Bhavananda started up. He then knew that the
woman whom he had revived was the wife of Mahendra,
but he did not think it needful to give out anything.
*' How did Mahendra's wife die," asked Jivananda.
S. She killed herself with poison.;
J. Why did she kill herself ?
S. God had bidden her in a dream to die.
B. Was it for the benefit of our Society that this
command came ?
S. So it would seem from what Mahendra said. It
is now near the end of the day and I must go to do the
religious duties of the hour and then I shall be en-
gaged in initiating the new Children.
B. Childre7i ? Why, is there anybody other than
Mahendra who presumes to be your disciple to-day ?
S. Yes, another stranger. I never saw him before,
94
THE ABBE V OF BLISS
he has come only to-day. He is a very young [man and
I have been greatly pleased with his looks and conver-
sation. I am disposed to think that he is a true
coin. I charge Jivananda with the work of training
him up in the duties of a Child, for he is a great hand in
winning people's hearts. I will be going now. I have
but one other advice to give you which you must listen
to with attention."
They folded their arms and humbly said : " As your
Holiness pleases."
Satyananda said, " If you two have been guilty of
any transgression or if you happen to be so ere I
come back, do not expiate it till I come back. When I
come back, expiation will be absolutely necessary
for you."
So saying Satyananda went to his own place, and
Jivananda and Bhavananda stood there amazedly
looking at each other's face.
" Was that meant for you ? " asked Bhavananda.
" Possibly. I went to my sister to keep Mahendra's
daughter there,"
" There's no harm in that, that's not forbidden — but
did you do yourself the pleasure of seeing your wife
there ? "
" He thinks so, perhaps."
Chapter IV
After finishing his evening prayers, Satyananda called
Mahendra and said,
"Your daughter still lives."
" Where, Maharaj ? "
" Why do you call me 'Maharaj'? "
" Because every body calls you so and I think heads
of monasteries are so called everywhere. Where is my
daughter, Maharaj ? "
" Before you hear that, give me a clear and definite
answer as to your wishes to take the vow of The
Children ? "
" I have made up my mind to take it."
" Then do not want to learn where your daughter is."
" Why, Maharaj ? "
" When any one takes this vow, he has to snap all
ties that bind him to his wife, children and kinsmen. You
have got to expiate even the transgression of seeing the
face of your wife or children. Till the Children have
reached the consummation of their desire, you may not
even look at your daughter's face. So that, if you have
decided to take the vow of The Children, what will you
do with knowing where your daughter is ? You cannot
see her by any means now."
" Why this hard rule, sire ? "
" The work of The Children is an arduous one and
96
THE ABBEY OF BUSS
only he who has renounced everything is fit for the
work. Like the kite tied to the reel, a man who is
tied to affections can never leave the world behind to
soar in the heavens."
" I confess I donot quite see it, Maharaj. Is every one
who looks at his wife or child unfit for any great work ?"
" A look at those we love makes us unmindful of
the work of the gods. It is one of the articles of our
creed that a Child must be prepared to die as soon as it
may be necessary. Could you ever give your life for any
cause if you thought of the wife and the children you
had left behind."
" But could I forget my daughter, only if did not see
her ?"
" If you can't, don't take the Vow. 1 '
" Has every Child thus renounced his wife and
children before taking that vow ? The Children must then
be quite a handful, I should suppose."
" The Children are of two classes, the initiated and
the uninitiated. Those who are uninitiated are either
householders or beggars. They come to fight and
disappear with their share of the booty or other reward.
Those who are initiated have to renounce everything.
They are the leaders of the Society. I don't ask
you to be one of the uninitiated, for there is no lack of
men to fight with sticks or spears at the time of battle.
You cannot be entrusted with any serious work of the
Society unless you are initiated."
" What is the initiation ? Why should I be initiated
CHAPTER IV
97
anew? I have already had to go through that ceremony
once before."
"You must give up your old creed and take a creed
from me anew."
" How am I to give up my Mantram ?"
" I shall show you the way. 1 '
" Why should I have to take^-a new one ?"
" Because the Children are alt Vaishnavas."
" I do not know how it is so. How could the Children
be Vaishnavas when the avoidance of all blood-shed is
considered as the highest virtue with them ? "
" That's the Vaishnava creed of Chaitanya. It is the
creed of that spurious Vaishnavism which grew up in
imitation of -atheistic Buddhism. The ideal of true
Vaishnavism is the chastisement of the wrong-doers and
the salvation of mother earth ; for our patron Deity is
the Preserver of the Universe. Ten times was he born
in flesh to save the world. It was he who fought and
killed demons like Keshi, Hiranyakasipu, Madhu,
Kaitabha, Mur and Narak, Rakshasas like Ravana, and
tyrants like Kansa and Sisupala. He is the Victor and
the Bestower of Victory, He is the saviour of the world
and the patron Deity of " The Children." Chaitanya's
Vaishnavism is not true Vaishnavism, but only half
the true faith. Its God is only Love ; but the true God
is not Love alone but also Infinite Power. Chaitanya's
Vishnu is all Love, our Vishnu is all Power. We are
all of us Vaishnavas but the creed of either is only half
the whole creed. Do you grasp it ?"
7
98
THE ABBJi V OF BLISS
" t am afraid not — it seems all so new to me. Once
I met a Christian priest at Cassimbazar ; he said some-
thing like it : — God is Love, he said, and wanted us to
love Jesus. It is all very much like that."
" I have only tried to make you understand what
our ancestors have all along believed in. Have you
ever heard that the Deity consists of three Gunas ? u
" I have ; Sattva } Rajas and Tamas are the three
attributes of the Lord."
" All right, these three gunas have got to be pro-
pitiated by distinct modes of worship. From Sattva
springs God's mercy and love and this is to be propitiated
by Love. — That's what the followers of Chaitanya do.
From Rajas springs His Power, — this has got to be
propitiated by fight, by slaying the enemies of the
gods. This is what we do. From Tamas the Lord
takes what form he chooses and appears as the four-
handed Deity and other gods. This is to be worshipped
by garlands, sandal, &c. This is what the ordinary
man does. Do you understand now ?"
"I do ; then the Children are only a religious com-
munity ?"
" Quite so, we do not want sovereignty ; we only
want to kill these Mussulmans, root and branch, be-
cause they have become the enemies of God.' J
Chapter V
The tcte a tete with Mahendra finished, Satyananda
entered with Mahendra the temple in the abbey where
that beautiful and noble image of Vishnu was placed.
There was an unusual display of beauty there at the
hour. It was lit up with various lamps of gold and
silver set with jewels, and heaps of flowers filled the
temple with beauty and fragrance.
Within the temple sat another person who was slowly
chanting the name of Han. On Satyananda entering
the room he stood up and made his obeisance. The
monk then asked him, " Do you want to be initiated ?"
" Please have the kindness, 1 ' replied the man. Satya-
lianda then addressed them both and said, " Have you
bathed and fasted and kept yourselves pure as enjoined ?"
"Yes," they replied.
" Take the vow in the presence of the Deity that you
will scrupulously follow the rules of the Children's creed."
" We will."
fS That you will renounce your home till the mother
is saved. 51
" We will/'
u Your brothers and sisters ?'
" Yes."
« Wife and children ? "
" Yes."
" Kinsmen and servants ?"
TOO
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
" Everything we will give up."
" Riches and pleasures."
" We renounce them all."
" You will conquer your passions and never share a
seat with a woman ?"
" We will never share such a seat and will conquer
our impulses."
" Swear in the Divine Presence that you will never
earn any money for yourself or your relations and that
what you earn you will make over to the treasury of
our Society."
" We do swear."
" That you will take up arms yourselves and fight
for the True Religion."
w We will."
" That you will never fly from;; the battle-field,"
v Never."
" If you break your vow ?"
" We will enter a burning pyre or end our lives
by taking poison."
" There is another thing," said Satyananda, "and that
is caste. To what caste do you belong? I know
Mahendra is a Kayestha but what is the caste of the
other ?"
" The other man replied, " 1 am a Brahmin."
" Well," said Satyananda, " could you give up your
caste ? All the children belong to one caste ; we do not
make any distinction between Brahmins and Sudras
in this great mission. What do you say to that ?"
CHAPTER V
101
" We also shall not make any distinction and shall
consider ourselves as children of one mother."
" Then I shall initiate you. Never break the vow
you have taken here. Vishnu Himself is witness to it.
Me who slew Ravana, Kamsa, Hiranyakasipu, Jarasan-
dha, Sisupala and others, who knows the inmost
thoughts of everybody, who is all-victor, all-powerful
and all-regulator, who dwells alike in the thunderbolt
of Indra and in the claws of the cat, He will send the
breaker of faith to eternal perdition."
" So be it," they said.
" Sing then ' Hail mother,' " said the monk and
the two sang the hymn of the Mother, The monk
then initiated them in proper form.
Chapter VI
After the ceremony of initiation was over, Satya-
nanda led Mahendra to a secluded place. When they
had taken their seats .Satyananda said : fi My child, I
regard it as a sign of God's favour to our cause that you
have taken this vow. A very great service to the
Mother will be done by you. Listen to my orders
with care now. I do not want you to rove in the woods,
fighting, like Jivananda and Bhavananda. You will have
now to return to Padachinha and to pursue an ascetic's
avocations at home."
Mahendra was sorry and surprised to hear this, but
said nothing. "At present," the monk went on, "we
have no place to shelter us, none where we might stock
our provisions and shut ourselves up securely for a few
days, if pressed by a powerful force. We have no forti-
fications. You have got big buildings and your village
is in your own possession. I desire to build a fortress
there. If we could throw a ditch and ramparts round
the village, establish watches at intervals, and place
guns on the ramparts, we could make a good fort
altogether. You just go to your home. By and by, a
thousand Children will reach your place. You will then
have to begin to build the fortifications with them. You
will build a strong iron chamber in the fort, which will
be the treasury of the Children. I shall send to your
place chests filled with gold which you will require
CHAPTER VI
103
to spend for all these works. I shall also get expert
artisans from different places, and when they come,
you will have to establish a foundry and arsenal at
Padachinha for the manufacture of guns, powder, shot,
etc. It is for doing all this that I ask you to go back
home."
Mahendra agreed.
Chapter VII
When Mahendra left after making his obeisance, the
second man who was initiated with him came up and
bowed before the monk, Satyananda blessed him and
ordered him to sit on the black deerskin seat that lay
there. He spoke pleasantly to him for some time and
then said : " How now, is your love and devotion for
Sri Krishna strong enough ? "
" How can I say ? May be what I call love and devotion
is either hypocrisy or self-deception."
" You have spoken well," said Satyananda, " engage
yourself in such acts as will tend to increase your
devotion and I bless thee that thou mayest succeed in
thy endeavours. For you are yet of a tender age. Child,
I have not yet asked you by what name I may call you."
The new Child said, " As your holiness pleases, I am
the servus servorum of the Vaishnavas."
" Looking at your youth I am disposed to christen
you with the name of Nabinananda ; by this name you
shall be known in our society. But I wish to ask
you one thing ; what was your old name ? You may
tell it to me even if there is any bar. It won't reach
another's ear if you confide it to me. It is a tenet of the
creed of The Children that you have to speak to the
master what you may not speak to anybody else. There
is no harm in telling it."
" My name is Santiram Devasarma."
" Your name is Mrs. Santimani what 1"
CHAPTER VII
ios
So saying Satyananda pulled at the long jet black
beards of his disciple and the false beards forthwith
came off.
" For shame, child," said Satyananda, " how could
you think of deceiving me ? And if you did, why did you
hang such long beards at this age. Even if you had
your beards shorter,, could you dissemble that voice and
look ? If I were such a fool as that, I could not have
taken such a great work in hand."
Santi — impudent thing — first hid her eyes with her
hand and looked down. But presently she took away
the hand and, looking in the face of the shrewd old
man with her sportive glance, said, "But sire, what
is there wrong in what I have done ? Can strength
never reside in a woman's arms."
" Aye, even as you have water in a cow's foot-print."
" Do you ever try the strength of the Children?
" I do," said Satyananda and brought out a steel bow
and a bit of wire. " They have got to put this string to
the steel bow," he continued, "the string is only three
feet long. The bow springs up with the attempt to
bend it and throws off the attempted He. who can
string it is a really strong man."
Santi carefully examined the bow and string, and
asked " Have all the Children passed the test."
" No, I have only tried their strength by its means."
" Has no one passed ? "
" Only four have."
" May I ask who they are ?"
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
" You may, one is myself."
" The others ? "
" Jivananda, Bhavananda, Jnanananda."
Santi took up the bow, put the string to it with ease,
and threw it at Satyananda's feet.
Satyananda was astonished, awed and dumbfounded.
Presently he asked, " What's this ? are you a goddess or
a woman only I"
" A very humble woman, but I have lived a pure and
austere life."
" How could it be so ? Is it that you were widowed
when a child ? No, that too is not likely ; a widow can-
not be so strong, for she has to live on one meal a day."
" No, I have got my husband."
" Is it that he cannot be traced ? "
" He can be traced and it is to trace him that I have
come here/'
Then in Satyananda's mind flashed the sudden light
of an old memory like sunshine peeping through a
break in the clouds.
" Yes, I remember." he said, " Santi is the name of
Jivananda's wife. Are you Jivananda's spouse ?"
This time Santi hid her face with her ample braids.
It looked as though several trunks of elephants fell on
a full-blown lotus.
" Why did you come to do this sinful deed ? "
Santi instantly threw her crop of braids on her back,
and, pulling herself up, proudly answered : " Where is
the sin in it, sire ? Do you call it a sin that a wife
CHAPTER VJI
107
shuold follow her husband ? If the religion of the
Children calls it so, it is irreligion. I am the participa-
tor in his piety — he is engaged in a pious work and I
have come to share it with him."
Satyananda was charmed with her eloquent words
and lofty bearing, her heaving breast and trembling lips
and her bright eyes filling with tears in the meantime.
" You are a saintly woman," said he, " but consider,
child, that a wife is the participator in household pieties
alone ; of what use is she in a hero's mission ?"
" What hero, sire," returned Santi, " was great with-
out a wife ? Would Rama have been a hero without his
wife ? Can you count the wives that Arjuna had ?
Bhima, the very personification of Strength, had a
number of wives. How many should I name ? What
need have I indeed to name them to a scholar like
you ? "
" True, but what hero ever came to the field with
his spouse ? "
"When Arjuna fought with the Yadava soldiers from
behind the clouds, who was it that led his chariot ?
Would the Pandavas have fought in Kurukshetra if
Draupadi were not with them ? ''
" Still, with common men, the woman attracts their
mind and diverts them from their proper avocations. The
creed of the children therefore insists that they should
not even sit on the same seat with a woman. Jivananda
is my right hand and you have come to maim it."
" I have come to strengthen your right hand, sire. I
io8
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
am an austere woman and will remain so before your
Holiness. I have come to practice piety only and not
that I may have the pleasure of seeing my husband.
I did not come because I was pining under the pang
of separation. I have come because I feel that I ought
to participate in the mission which my husband has
taken up."
" Very well, I shall watch you for a few days."
" Shall I be permitted to stay in the abbey ? ,J
" Where else could you go tonight ? "
" After that ? "
" Like the mother Bhowani, you too have got fire on
your brow ; why should you consume the community
of the Children with it " returned Satyananda, and then
blessed her and bade her adieu.
Santi said to herself, " Bless your old head, man !
I have fire on my brow. Is it I or your mother that
has had her forehead burnt."*
In truth Satyananda did not mean that. He was
speaking of the fire in her eyes, and an old man like
him could not possibly speak it plainly to a young
woman !
* Forakapali or a Woman with ajburnt forehead (luck) is a term of
abuse. Santi here mischievously translates Satyananda's reference to the
fire on her brow — by which he meant the fire of her eyes — into an insinua-
tion ihrxt she was a woman with a burnt brow. The abuse is also other-
wise worded e. g. tor kapak agun, 'let the fire be on thy forehead.'
Chapter VIII
For that night Santi had obtained permission to
stay in the abbey and therefore she went in search of a
room. There were many empty rooms. A servant
named Gobardhan — a bit of a Child himself — lighted
the way to the rooms and showed them to her ; but
no one met with her approval. At last in despair
Gobardhan turned to take her back to Satyananda.
Brother Child? said Santi, " there are some rooms
this way ; I have not seen them."
" Oh ! they are very good rooms," said Gobardhan,
" but they have all got inmates."
" Who live there ? " she asked,
" Great generals."
«' Who are they ? "
" Bhavananda, Jivananda and Jnanananda. The
Abbey of Bliss is full of bliss."*
" Come, why not let us see the rooms ? " Gobardhan
first took her to Dhirananda's room. He was reading the
Dronaparva of the Mahabharata. His mind was now
engrossed with the account of how Abhimanyu fought
with the seven warriors alone, and so he did not speak.
Santi left the place without a word.
She then entered Bhavananda's chamber. He was
* The word anandct which is tacked to every one of these names
'bliss/
no
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
at that time contemplating a face, with his eyes fixed
above. We cannot say whose face it was, but it was a
very lovely face with black and fragrant curls dropping
loosely on long eyelashes that went close up to the
ears. The little brow between them was immersed in
the darksome shade of death, as though death and its
conqueror were fighting on it. The eyes were shut, the
eye-lashes steady, the lips blue, cheeks pale, the nose
cold, and the wind playing with her clothes. Then
somehow the grace of life slowly spread itself on
the dead body just as the moon hid by autumn clouds Iits
up the clouds and slowly unfolds her charm ; or as the
morning sun slowly gilds the waving clouds one after
another till it itself bursts out in its glory lights the
world and cheers up land and water. Oh, what beauty,
thought Bhavananda. He was engaged in this thought
and did not speak. Hi's heart was stung by Kalyani's
charms, so he did not look on Santi's charms. Santi then
went on to another room and asked " Whose room in
this ? "*
" Jivananda Thakur's."
" Who is that ? Why, there is no one here."
" He must have gone somewhere and will be coming
back presently."
" This is the best room."
" But you can't have it."
" Why not ? M
" Jivananda Thakur stays here."
" Well, he may look out another room for himself."
CHAPTER VIII
in
" That can never be ; he who stops in this room is
all but the master of everything. His will is law here."
" Very well, you may go. If I do not find any room
here, I shall stay under a tree."
So saying she sent Gobardhan away and entered the
room. He then spread the black dearskin seat Jiva-
nanda possessed and sat on it. She then enlivened
the flame of the lamp and sat down to read one of
Jivananda's books.
Jivananda arrived shortly afterwards.
Santi was dressed like a man but Jivananda knew
her at once and said, " Mow is it, Santi ! "
Santi slowly put aside the book, looked up to
Jivananda and said, " Who is Santi, sir/ 3
Jivananda was non-plussed and said " Who is Santi !
Why, are you not Santi ? "
Santi scornfully answered, " I am Nobinananda
Goswami."
Jivananda laughed aloud and said, "It is a nice
un , to be sure. Well now, Nobinananda, what have you
come here for ? "
" It is the custom with gentlemen," said Santi grave-
ly, " to call a person 'sir,' and the like on first ac-
quaintance. I too am not speaking with discourtesy
to you. Why do you then fail to show me the com-
monest courtesy ? "
" As your Honour pleases," said Jivananda and,
throwing the skirt of his cloth round his neck, he con-
tinued with folded hands : " and now your seivant's
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
humble submission is that your worship will please in-
timate why your worship has come to this poor
man's hut from Bharuipur."
" I don't see there is any occasion for ridicule either.
I don't know Bharuipur. I came here today to adopt the
creed of the Children and have been initiated to-day."
" Good gracious ! Is it true ? "
" Why, what's the harm ? you too are initiated."
" But you are a woman."
" How's it ? Where could you get that ? "
" I thought that my consort was a female."
" Consort ! have you one ? "
" I thought I had."
" You believe then that I am your wife."
Jivananda again played the penitent by throwing the
skirt round his neck and, joining his palms, said :
So I do, worshipful sir."
" If such a ludicrous idea should have possessed your
mind, what do you think you ought to do ?"
" To take the deerskin off your body and to drink
the honey of your lips."
This is only an evidence of your mischievous turn of
mind or of an unusual devotion to hemp. At the time
of initiation you swore not to sit on the same seat
with a woman. If you do really take me for a woman
— and indeed people do often make such mistakes,
for instance, when a rope is, mistaken for a snake — then
you ought to sit on a separate seat. Even talking with
me is not meet for you."
CHAPTER VI//
"3
So saying Santi devoted herself to her book once
again. Jivananda found he was beaten in the game ;
he therefore made another bed and laid himself down
to sleep.
PART III
Chapter I
The dreaded year '76 came to an end at last, thank
God ! After having despatched to the abode of Death
over a third of the population of Bengal — nobody
knows what that was at that period — the year itself
passed away into eternity. In the year '77, Heaven
smiled on the people of Bengal. There was good rain,
the earth groaned with crops, and those who survived
the famine fed themselves to their heart's content.
Man)' people had contracted disease by starving, and a
full meal proved fatal to many of them. The crops
were full but men were few. In every village desolate
and deserted houses became dreaded haunts of beasts
and ghosts. Lots of fertile land in every village
were left uncultivated and lay fallow or were over-
grown with jungle. The country all over was covered
with woods. On the very spots where a green har-
vest smiled before innumerable cattle now grazed ;
the gardens which were the pleasure-resorts of the
youths of the village slowly changed into dense
jungles. Years passed by and the jungles went on
growing. In the happy haunts of men, man-eaters
hunted deers and other prey. Where a bevy of fair
ladies walked before, resounding the streets with the
jingle oinupurs on their crimson-painted feet and with
the sound of raillery with friends and merry peals of
laughter, the bear now nursed her child and made it
CHAPTER I
her home. Where children smiled in their innocence like
the jasmine of the evening and laughed their hearty
laughs, there wild elephants roamed about in companies
and rent asunder the trunks of trees. In the buildings
where the Pujas used to be held, the jackal made his
home ; the owl haunted the swinging throne of Krishna's
image and venomous snakes hunted frogs in broad
daylight on the floor of what had been a canopied yard.
Crops grew, but there were not men enough to eat them ;
merchandise were produced but there were scarcely any
buyers for them. Peasants tilled the land but got no
money and could pay no rents to the landlord ; the
landlords also could not pay their revenue to the State.
The State confiscated the property of the zemindars and
reduced them to poverty. The land grew richly fertile
but wealth did not come to the people and no one had
money in hand. Most people lived by depredations,
and robbers grew plentiful. All good people retired into
seclusion for fear of being molested by the bad ones.
The community ot The Ckildre?i meanwhile daily
worshipped the image of Vishnu with tulsi leaves,
smeared in sandal paste and armed with guns pilfered
from wherever they could be found. Bhavananda had
once told them : " Comrades, if you find on one side
piles of jewels and diamonds and a broken matchlock
on the other, get this matchlock and leave the treasures
behind." Then they began to send emissaries to the
villages. These went to the villages and wherever they
found 20 or 25 Hindus, fell on Mussulman villages and
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
set fire to their houses. While the Mussulmans busied
themselves in saving their lives, the Children plundered
their possessions and distributed them among their
followers. When the rustics were gratified with a share
of the booty, they were taken to the temple of Vishnu
and initiated there as Children with the touch of the
idol's feet. People found that the Children's mission was
a lucrative business. Besides, they were intensely dis-
affected with the anarchy and misrule of Mussulman
domination. Many people were really anxious to revive
Hinduism on seeing that it was gradually sinking. So
the ranks of the Children daily swelled. Hundreds came
every day and thousands every month and, bowing to
the feet of Jivananda and Bhavananda, went out in
companies to different quarters to punish the Mussul-
mans. Where they found officials they beat them, and
sometimes even killed them ; where they found public
money they plundered it ; and where they found a
Mussulman habitation they burnt it down to ashes.
The local officials then began to send out large
detachments of the army. But now the Children were
a compact body, well armed and proud of their
strength. The Mussulmans could not approach them
for their prowess. When they did, the puissant Children
fell on them, worked havoc in their ranks and
cried " Iiari, Hari." If ever a Mussulman detach-
ment defeated the Children, another body of Children
would forthwith turn up and cut off the heads of
the erstwhile victors and go away shouting " Plan",
CHAPTER I
"7
Han." At this time the famous Warren Hastings,
the rising sun of the British in India, was the Governor-
General. Seated on his guadee at Calcutta, he was
forging an iron chain by which he thought he would
bind the whole of India. God from his heavenly
throne, no doubt, said ; "Amen, but that day is distant
yet." Now, at any rate, even Warren Hastings had to
shudder at the grim halloos of the Children,
He first tried to suppress the rebellion with the
Foujdari sepoys. But they were so grossly demo-
ralised that they would fly as soon as they would hear
the name of Hart uttered even by an old woman.
So Warren Hastings had to send a body of the
Company's sepoys under an able officer, Captain
Thomas, to put down the outbreak.
On reaching the spot, Captain Thomas began to make
active preparations for the suppression of the revolt He
gathered together the State troops and the soldiery under
the zemindars of Bengal and combined them with the
well-equipped, well-trained and able-bodied soldiers,
native and foreign, of the Company. He then divided
the combined army into companies under capable
officers and divided the infested country between them.
Their orders were to sweep the part of the country
under their charge as the fisherman drags a net and to
kill the rebels like dogs. The Company's soldiers pulled
up their spirits, some with hemp and others with rum,
and with the bayonet on their guns marched off in quest
of the Children. But the Children were innumerable
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
and invincible ; Captain Thomas's soldiers were newt;
down by them like crops by the scythe and his ears
were dinned with loud shouts of Hart, Hart.
Chapter II
The Company had many silk-factories at the time
and one of them was situated at Sibagram. Mr.
Donniworth was the factor or manager of the factory.
The Company made excellent arrangements for the safety
of these factories in those days, and it was for this that
Mr. Donniworth somehow contrived to keep his head
on his shoulders. He had to send away his wife and
children to Calcutta, however, and was himself sorely
pressed by the Children. Captain Thomas came to this
spot with a few companies of his soldiers about this time.
A rabble of low-class rustics, encouraged by the en-
thusiasm of the Children, had interested themselves in the
work of despoiling people of their wealth and they once
fell upon Captain Thomas's commissariat. Cartloads of
ghee, flour, poultry, rice and other food-stuffs passing by
the way had tickled their appetite beyond control and
they therefore attacked the carts ; but a few blows from
the guns in the hands ot the sepoys were enough to
disperse them. Captain Thomas instantly sent a report
to Calcutta that with 157 sepoys he bad that day
worsted a company of 14,700 rebels of whom 2,153 were
killed, 1,233 wounded and 7 taken prisoners,— the last
item alone being irreproachably veracious. The Captain
himself thought that he had fought and won a second
Blenheim or Rossbach ; he twirled up his moustaches and
walked about, majestically intrepid. He advised Donni-
120
THE ABBEY OB BLISS
worth that the rebellion had been quelled and that there
was nothing left for htm to do but to send for his wife and
children from Calcutta. Donniworth promised he would
do it, but he had better stay there for some time and
let the country quiet down a little more. Donniworth
had a farm full of sheep and chicken, and stores
replenished with excellent cheese. His table always
groaned under the load of all sorts of wild fowl, and
his bearded cook was a second Draupadi in the
culinary art. So, Captain Thomas did not waste much
breath and staved on there.
Bhavananda on the other hand was fuming with rage
and looking forward to the day when he might have
access to the title of a second sambarari by cutting off
the head of this Captain Thomas. The Children did not
know that the English had come to India for its salva-
tion. How could they, indeed ! Even Englishmen of
Captain Thomas's time did not know it. It was then only
in the mind of Providence that it should be so. Bhava-
nanda thought he would pluck out this crop of demons,
root and branch, when they would get together and
be off their guard. In the meanwhile the Children
stayed aloof, and, innocent of anxiety, Captain
Thomas set himself to appreciating the skill of the
new chef.
The Captain loved sport immensely, and would
from time to time ride with Mr. Donniworth in quest
of game round the woods near Sivagram. One day, he
had been out hunting with Mr. Donniworth, follow-
CHAP7ER II
121
ed by a company of huntsmen. To tell the truth,
Captain Thomas was fearless, and for boldness and
strength he was an example even to Englishmen. The
wood teemed with tigers, buffaloes, bears and other wild
beasts. After some distance was passed the huntsmen
refused to go further and said there was no way further
on. Donniworth had once been encountered by such
a tiger in the woods that he too was not inclined to go
further. They were for turning back, but the Captain
said : " You may return, but I won't." So he entered the
depths of the forest alone. In fact there was no way
into it. The horse could not proceed further, but the
Captain left it, walked alone into the woods with a gun
in hand and looked about for a tiger. He did not find
any tiger, but who was there sitting under a huge
tree covered over with flowery creepers ? It was a
young devotee who lit up the woods with the charm of
her person. It seemed as if the blooming flowers grew
more fragrant by the touch of that heavenly body. The
Captain was surprised, but his surprise was followed by
wrath. He knew the native dialect fairly well, and, in
his queer accents, asked in vernacular "Who are you ? "
The devotee answered : " I am a devotee."
" You are a rebel/' answered the captain, unable to
express his sense in vernacular.
" What is that ? " enquired the ascetic.
" I will shoot you down," said the captain in his
broken accents.
" Do so," said the Sannyasi.
122
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
The captain was hesitating whether he would shoot
the ascetic or not, when suddenly the young devotee
sprung upon him and snatched away his gun and pluck-
ed the deerskin off and threw away the false braids
from the head, and, lo J Captain Thomas saw before
hiin the figure of a beautiful woman. The lady smiled
and said : " Saheb, I am a woman and do not mean to
hurt anybody, but I would like to ask you one thing.
The fight is between Hindus and Mussulmans, why do
you come between them ? You had better go back
home."
" Who are you," enquired Thomas.
" You see I am a female devotee and a wife of some
one of those you have come to fight with."
" Would you stay in my house ? "
" What ! as your mistress ? "
" No, you may stay like a wife, but there won't be
a marriage."
" I too have something to ask ; we had a monkey in
our house which has died of late, leaving its cage empty.
I will present to you a chain for your waist, will you
come and stay in its place ? We have got excellent
plantains in our gardens ! "
" You are a very ' spirited * woman," said the captain,
in a mixed language. " I am very much pleased with
your courage. Come to my house. Your husband will
die in the fight ; what will happen to you then ? "
" Very well, let us come to an agreement. The fight
will be over in a few days. If you win I agree to
CHAPTER 11
123
stay as your mistress, that is, if I live. But if we win
then, well, would you come and take the place of our
monkey and eat plantains ? "
" Plantains are good to eat," said the captain, "have
you got any with you ? "
" Go to " said Santi, "take thy gun and be off ; what
a pity one has got to speak to such a race of savages."
Santi gave him his gun and went away smiling.
Chapter III
When Santi left the Captain, she disappeared in tlu
woods nimbly like a doe. Presently the Captain heard
the following song sung by a woman : —
The roaring tide youth is in
Who's there can stem it, O !
O Lord of creation, 'tis Thou,
The demon MarcCs foe !
Again the melodious strains of a sarang sang from
somewhere else :
" The roaring tide of youth is in
Who's there can stem it, O !
O Lord of creation, 5 tis Thou,
The demon Murtfs foe !
With it mingled too a man's voice which sang :
The roaring tide youth is in
Who's there can stem it O !
O Lord of creation, 'tis Thou,
The demon MurcCs foe !
The storm it blows on water high
My frigate dances lo,
The steerer ably guides her course ;
O Lord, O Murds foe !
The wall of sands I'll wash away
And ease my longing Soul,
A current who can ever stop,
When tidal waters roll
O Lord ! O Murals foe !
The sarang too sang in the same strain :
" A current who can ever stop
When tidal waters roll ? "
Santi entered the wood where it was the thickest, —
so much dark it was that you could not know who was
CHAPTER III
within if you stood outside. There stood a little cottage
here wholly concealed by the dense foliage. The walls
were made by branches of trees intertwined with
creepers, the roof was of leaves, and the floor of wood
covered with a thick crust of earth. Santi entered it
after opening the door made of creepers. There sat
Jivananda playing on the saratig. As he saw Santi, he
asked : " Has the tide set in the stream after all ?"
Santi smiled and said, " Does the tide ever enter a
pond or a drain ?"
Jivananda grew gloomy and said, " Santi, my life is
gone for the transgression of one day. I shall have to
expiate for my sin one day. I would have done it before
this, but I have desisted only at your request But a
great battle surely looks ahead, and I will have to make
my expiation on the field of that battle. My life I
must give up, but on the day of death."—
Santi interrupted him and said : " I am your wife,
the participator in your pieties and a helper in the noble
work you have undertaken. You have taken a very
great vow and I have left my home only to aid you
in that great work. We have changed our home for
the woods only that we might perform that great duty
together. I shall add to your piety and not stand in the
way of your success in the world of devotion. Marriage
is not for this life alone but for the life hereafter. As for
the marriage of this life, let us think that there never
was such a thing between us. Our marriage is all for
the life hereafter and I am sure we will reap a double
126
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
harvest in the life to come. But why talk of expiation ?
Of what sin are you guilty ? You pledged yourself not
to sit on the same seat with a woman. You have never
done that. What then are you to expiate? My lord and
tutor, everything I have learnt from you, what can I teach
you ? You are a hero ; is it for me to teach you the
duty of one ? "
Jivananda was very glad to hear all this and said
"But you have indeed taught me something !"
Beaming with pleasure, Santi added, " Now, look at
the other side and say if our marriage has been really
vain even on this side of the grave ? You love me and
I love you — what greater bliss can marriage give us in
our earthly life ? Cry then ( Hail, mother' and be happy."
They then joined their voices and sang together the
great hymn of the Motherland.
Chapter IV
One of these days Bhavananda went to town. He
forsook the broad thoroughfares and proceeded by one
of its dingy lanes. On its two sides rose high buildings
which effectually obstructed the sun who only peeped
into it once at noon ; for the rest of the day darkness
held its sway. Bhavananda entered one of the two-
storied houses on the lane and went straight into
a room in the ground-floor where a middle-aged woman
was engaged in cooking. The woman was middle-aged,
dark and plump, with a widow's white cloth on. Her
forehead was tattoed and over it her hair was dressed
into a puff. Tong, tong, rang the pan when struck with
the stick with which she stirred the rice and her hair
whistled as she gurgled on, talking to herself ; her
puffed hair waved in all manner of ways with the
grimaces that she was making. It was when she was
thus engaged that Bhavananda entered the room and
hailed her, "My morning's obeisance, grandam ! "
The " grandam," when she saw Bhavananda, hastily
set herself to adjusting her dress. She once thought of
throwing open the knot on her head but could not
manage it, for her hand was not free at that time. Her
next thought was to cover the lock of hair — shining with
oil and decked with a bok flower, which she had placed
on it when worshipping ; — but the cloth could not help
her in the matter, for the length of the cloth she wore
128
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
did not exceed five cubits. In rounding her capacious
waist it was almost run out. Then a<*ain the nakedness
of the body had also to be covered with it. Thus far the
cloth would go, but oh reaching the shoulder it refused
to go further, and when the ear was reached it absolutely
stood still. So the very modest Gouri Thakurani had
to content herself with holding the skirt of her cloth
near the ear and, resolving to provide herself in future
with cloths 8 cubits long, she answered, Hallo, Gossain,
come, come ; but why do you bow to me ?"
"Bah," said Bhavananda, :< you are my grandam !"
" You like to call me so, that's all. You are a gossain ,
a god on earth. However, what you've done, you've
done, may vou live long. And in truth you may bow to
me, if you choose, for in any case I am older than you. : '
In fact Gouri Devi was senior to Bhavananda by
about a quarter of a century but the clever Bhavananda
answered, " No, grandam ! I call you so because you
are so droll, and don't you know when we made the
calculation you proved to be six years my junior ? You
know we Vaishnavas can do all sorts of things. I have
the intention to remarry you one day with the permis-
sion of the head of our abbey."
" For shame, you must not say that," said Gouri,
" you know 1 am a widow."
" Then there won't be a remarriage ?"
" Do what you think best, you are a wise man and
I am a poor woman — what can I know ? Well, when
is it going to take place then ?"
CHAPTER IV
Bhavananda suppressed his mirth with difficulty and
answered, " Not one day later than I see the Brahma-
chari ; and — er — well how is she ?"
Gouri was disappointed. She suspected that the
talk of her remarriage was all a joke, and answered,
<l Well how ? She is as she ever is."
" You just go and see how she is," said Bhavananda,
" and tell her that I have come and wish to see her
once."
Gouri Devi then left the cooking stick, washed her
hands and climbed the steep stairs up to the first floor. In
a room here and seated on a torn mat was a rare
beauty. But upon her charm there was a very dark
shadow ; — a shadow like that of the dark cloud over^a
stream at mid-day, — smiling and bright, great and full to
overflowing, and rolling with deep water. Waves are
merrily cast up, ashore the flowery trees wave with the
breeze and droop with their blooming burden, the
mansions on the bank are shining too ; the water is moved
in billows by the passing boats ; — the hour is mid -day ;
still all its beauties are overcast with gloom for the
shadow of the dark cloud. — So too was she ! Her
smooth, dark and dense hair flowed gleefully as before ;
there were in her open and full forehead, as before, the
eyelashes looking like things painted with a rare brush ;
as before, shone her blooming bright and watery eyes
adorned with a shining black spo", — not so wistful in
glance nor so restless, but a little softer than before.
The crimson on her lips shone as before, her full breast
9
THE ABBEY OF BUSS
heaved with her breath as usual, and her arms
owned a softness that is the despair of the sylvan
creeper as it did of old. But there was not that gloss,
nor the sharpness, not the brightness, nor the briskness
and not that charm nor, it would seem, even that youth.
Beauty and sweetness alone seemed to have been trium-
phant, and patience and gravity were now added to
her features. If >ou had ever seen her before you would
have no doubt thought that she was a matchless beauty
on earth ; if you saw her now you would take her for
a goddess of heaven born on earth under a ban. Round
her lay scattered a few antique books on the floor, on the
wall hung a set of beads to assist her in chanting
Harinani) and, here and there, there were pictures of
Jagannath, of the chastisement of Kaliya and on other
subjects connected with Srikrishna's life in Brindaban.
Bhavananda entered that room and asked : " Kalyani,
are you well ?" tf Will you never cease inquiring that
of me ?" retorted Kalyani. " What is it to you whether
I am well or ill ? And what is it to me too ? "
" He who plants a tree waters it daily and finds
pleasure in its growth. I planted life in your dead
body, why should 1 not now ask whether it is growing ?"
" Does a poison tree ever cease to live ? "
" Is life a poison ?"
M Why else did I seek to destroy it with nectar ?"
" I have often thought of asking you one question
but have not dared to do it so long. Who was it that
made your life a curse ? "
CHAPTER IV
" No one made my life a curse," answered Kalyani
quietly. " Life itself is a curse. So is my life, so is
yours, so is everybody's life."
" True, Kalyani, my life has been a curse ever since.
Have you finished your grammar ?"
« No."
" The Lexicon .?"
" I have no liking for it,"
" I saw you before eager in learning, why have you
grown so indifferent now ?"
" When a great savant like you is such a wicked
man, it is best not to become learned. Have you got
any news of my husband, sire ? "
" Why do you ask me that again and again ? He
is practically dead to you."
u I am dead to him but not he to me."
".You tried to die that he might be as dead to you.
Why then do you ask the question over and over again?"
" Our relation does not end with death. Tell me,
how is he ?"
" He is well."
" Where is he ? At Padachinha ?"
" Yes."
"What is he doing?"
" He is doing what he has been doing for some time
past — building a fort and manufacturing arms. With
the arms which he has produced, thousands of Children
have armed themselves. By his industry he has left us
no more in want of cannons and muskets, powder and
132
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
•shot He is now the foremost among the Children, he
is our right hand."
" Could he have done all this if be did not know that
I was dead ? Can anvbodv swim across this ocean of a
world who has got a pitcherful of mud tied to his neck ?
Can he run who has got iron chains on his legs ? O,
Sannyasi, why did you save this wretched life of mine?"
" A wife is the participator in her husband's duties
•and an aid to their performance."
" That applies to the humdrum duties of life, but in
all high and noble works the wife is a thorn on her
husband's path. A thorn is drawn out by a thorn alone,
they say. I sought to pluck the thorn of his failure in
duty by the thorn of poison. For shame, you wretched
and sinful ascetic, why did you give me b§ck my life?"
"Well, let what I have given remain mine. Kalyani,
could you give me back the life that I have given you ?"
" Do you know how my (laughter Sukumari is ?"
u I have not heard of her for a lung time. Jiva-
nanda has not gone that way for a long time."
K. Could you not get me news of her ? My husband
I must give up, but, if I have lived, why should I give
up my daughter too ? If I get back Sukumari, even in
this hapless life of mine, I may yet then have some joy.
But no, why should you do all this for me ? "
B. I will do it for you, Kalyani, 1 will get you your
child, but what then ?
K. What then ?
B. What of your husband ?
CHAPTER IV
133
K. I have willingly given him up ?
B. But if his mission is fulfilled'.?
K. 1 shall be his again. Does he know that I live.
B. No.
K. Do you not meet him ?
B. I do.
K. Do you speak nothing of me.
B. No, the husband has no relation with a wife
who is supposed to be dead.
K. What do you say ?
B. You have been re-born and may marry again.
Kalyani had so far retained her attitude of reverence
towards Bhavananda, but now she changed it to the
familiar 'thou' and said, " Get me my daughter."
" I will ; you may marry again."
" Thyself, should I marry ? "
" Say, will you marry ?"
" Well, marry thee ? "
" What if it comes to that ? "
" What will then be of the vow you have taken ? "
" It will go in the depths of the sea."
" This noble mission ? "
" The same way."
" For what would you throw up all these ? ,r
"For^w, Kalyani. Remember this that no one can
keep his passions under control, — be he a man, a rishi, a
siddha or a god. The vow of the Children is my very life,
but, 1 say it for the first time, yon are greater far than my
life. From the moment I revived you, I have been sold
THE ABBEY OF BUSS
to your charms. I did not know that there was ever such
a beauty on earth. If I knew that I would have to meet
with such a beauty, I would never have adopted the
Children's creed. In the fire of thy beauty the creed gets
burnt to ashes. My religion has been consumed by
thy charms, only life exists. Even the life itself has
been burning' out these four years. Kalyani, I am daily
passing through an ordeal of fire; — I am being
scalded through and through. But the fuel for the fire
is all but run out. My days now can be numbered.
I have borne it for four years, I cannot bear it any
more. Kalyani, will you be mine ?"
K. " I have heard from your lips that it is a
rule of the Children's creed that he who is swayed by
passions has got to expiate the sin by death. Is it true ?"
" It is."
" Then you have to expiate this by death ?"
" Yes, that is the only expiation possible."
" Will you die if I fulfil your desire ?"
" Yes, I will."
" If I don't?"
" Even then I must die, for my heart has been a
slave to the passions."
" I will not satisfy thy desire ; when will thou die ?"
" In the coming fight."
" Then get thee gone," said Kalyani, " will you send
me my daughter ?" With tears in his eyes, Bhavananda
answered "I will; but tell mi, will you remember me
when I am dead."
CHAPTER IV
135
" Yes, I will remember you as a sinner and as one
who had transgressed his vow"
Bhavananda left and Kalyani sat down to read her
book again.
Chapter V
Bhavananda walked towards the Abbey in a contem-
plative mood. Night overtook him on the way. He was
alone on the way, alone did he enter the forest, but he
now found that some one else walked before him.
" Who is that ?" enquired Bhavananda.
The man who walked before him answered : " I
could answer if you knew how to ask the question."
" Hail," said Bhavananda.
" Mother," came the reply.
" I am Bhavananda Goswami."
" I am Dhirananda."
" Dhirananda, where had you been ?"
tf In quest of yourself."
" Why."
" To have a word with you."
" About what ?"
" It should be spoken in private."
u This is a very lonely place, you may say here what
you have got to say."
" You went to town ?"
" Yes."
" To Gouri Devi's place ?"
" Did you go there too ?"
" A very beautiful damsel lives there ? "
Bhavananda was a little startled, a little afraid.
" What do you mean by all this ? " he asked.
CHAPTER V
137
" You went to see her ? ,J
" Well, and then ? "
" You are greatly enamoured of the damsel."
Bhavananda mused a while and said : " Dhirananda,
why did you seek to know so much ? Every word of what
you say is true. How many other than yourself know it ?"
" No one but myself."
"Then I can save my good name only if I kill you ?"
" You can."
" Then come let us fight in this solitude. Either
I shall kill you and be easy myself or you will kill me
and make an end of all my troubles. Are you armed ?"
" Certainly ; who would dare talk to you of these
things unarmed ? If fight be your object, I- am in for
it. A fight between two Children is forbidden, but
there is no prohibition against fighting for self-defence.
But would it not be much better to begin the fight after
I have said all that I had to say ? "
" There's no harm in that ; go on," said Bhavananda,
and taking his sword out of the scabbard placed it on
Dhirananda's shoulder, lest he should fly.
" I was going to say, you had better marry Kalyani,"
said Dhirananda.
" Kalyani ! You even know the name ?"
f< Why don't you marry her ?"
" She has got a husband. 5 '
" Oh, Vaishnava's dp marry like that !"
" That is for the low-class men and not for the
Children — a Child can never marry."
THE ABBE Y OF BLISS
" Is the Child's creed such as you can't renounce ?
— Dont you see, you are dying — Oh ! for shame, my
shoulder is cut up " (in fact blood was flowing from his
shoulders).
" With what object have you come to instigate me
to sin ? You must have some interest in doing so," said
Bhavananda.
"What is that I will tell you — Don't drive your sword
into my body — I'll tell you. This Child's vow has sorely
troubled me — I am sick of it. I want to renounce it and
pass my days in the pleasant company of my wife and
children. But I cannot be staying safely at home,
Many know me to be a rebel. So soon as I am at my
house, either the officers of the State will cut off my
head or the Children themselves will kill me as a traitor.
I therefore want to take you with me."
" Well, why me ? "
" That is the kernel of the whole affair. The
Children are all under your command. Satyananda is
not here [and in his absence you are their leader.
If you begin the fight with these soldiers, I am sure you
will win. When you have won, you had better establish
your own kingdom, for the soldiers will do your bidding.
You will then be the king and Kalyani may be your
Mandadari ; and I, as your humble follower, may happily
pass my days in the company of my darlings and bless
you. Sink the Child's creed in the depths of the
deepest sea."
Bhavananda slowly took off the* sword from Dhira-
CHAPTER V
139
nanda's shoulder and said : " Dhirananda, prepare for
fight, I shall kill you. I may have been a slave of
passion but I am not a traitor. You have asked me to
be a traitor and are yourself one. I shall not incur the
sin of killing a Brahmin by killing a thing like you.
I will kill you."
Before he had finished, Dhirananda ran away as
fast as his legs would carry him. Bhavananda did not
follow him, for he was abstracted for a while and when
he looked for him Dhirananda was to be seen nowhere.
Chapter VI
Instead of going to the Abbey, Bhavananda retired
into the depths of the wood. There were ruins of a very
old building in the woods. Shrubs had grown profusely
on the ruins and the place had become the abode of
numberless snakes. One part of the ruins was clearer
and less worn than the rest, and Bhavananda sat upon
this spot and began to think.
The night was very dark. The wood too was very
large and lonely, very dense and, for the thickly placed
trees and shrubs, impenetrable even by wild beasts.
It was vast, lonely, dark, impenetrable and silent. The
only sounds in it were the occasional roar of the tiger
or the grim yell of a beast of prey crying for
hunger or in fear or rage. At times there was the
sound of the beating of a big bird's wings and at
other times of the footsteps of the beasts, pursuing and
the pursued, preying and preyed upon. Seated on the
ruined building in that lonely darkness was Bhavananda
musing alone. The world did not then exist for him or
existed only as the home of fear. He was thinking with
his hand on his forehead ; — he did not move or breathe
for fear and was immersed in deep thought. He was
saying to himself : " What is to be, must be. My
only regret is that I should have been swept away by
a torrent of passion like the petty elephant before
CHAPTER VT 141
the Bhagirathi * The body may come to dust in a
moment and with it the senses,— and I have been borne
•away by these ! Death is best for me now— breaker of
a vow that I am. Die ! fie ! why shall I die ?" Just at
that time the owl grimly screeched overhead. Bhava-
nanda then spoke out :" What's that ? It sounded in
my curs as a call from Death. I do not know who
made the sound, who called me, who gave me the
advice, who bade me die ! Infinity ! Thou art full of
sounds, but I know not the meaning of thy voice. Give
me a mind to do my duty, keep me away from sin.
Oh, my Master ! bless me, that I may ever walk in the
path of Duty."
Then, from the woods, a deep and sweet human
voice jcried out, " I bless thee, thou shall ever walk on
the path of duty."
Bhavananda shuddered. " What is that," he cried,
" it is my Master's voice. Maharaj, where are you, come
before your slave in his distress."
But no one appeared, no one made a reply.
Bhavananda called again and again but no answer
came. He looked about on all sides but no one was
there.
Bhavananda returned to the Abbey at about dawn.
The morning sun washed the green leaves on the top
* This refers to the legend that when the holy Ganges or the Bhagi-
rathi was rushing down the plains, following her guide Bhngirath, a
huge elephant who was much puffed up with pride took it into its head to
stop the flow of the current. It therefore stood in front of the torrent,
prepared to fight, and was carried away like a straw.
142
THE ABBEY Oh BUSS
of the forest with light. He heard the song l Hare
Murare' and knew it was Satyananda's voice that
was singing it. He knew then that the Master had
returned.
Chapter VII
When Jivananda went out of the cottage, Santi softly
sang again to the accompaniment of the sarang :
When Deluge sank the worlds,
On the water endless
Vedas Thou didst uphold
Like a frigate fearless.
O Lord of Worlds that wore
The form of Fish of yore.
When the melodious measures of Jaideva chanted
by Santi Devi, with proper tune and time, stirred
the deep silence of that endless wood into a sweetness
like that of the tiny billows of a full-swollen river stirred
by the soft breeze of spring, she sang on :
The sacrifice of blood
Bid by the Word timeless
Blaming in mercy didst
Stop bloodshed relentless.
O Lord of Worids that wore
Great Buddha's form of yore.
Then somebody sang in a deep voice from outside : —
To lay the Mleccha low
With sword relentless
Rushing like comet dread
Bringing bloodshed endless
0 Lord of Worlds that will
Kalki's dread career fill.
Santi bowed down with reverence, took the dust of
Satyananda's feet, and said ; "My Master, what merit
.should I have acquired that I should meet you here?
Command me what I am to do." Then with a stroke
on the sarang she sang again,
'44
THE ABBEY OF BUSS
Relieve me low, lord ! at thy feet
And bless, that I have s^oocl that's meet !
" Good will be thy share, mother," said Satyammda.
" How, Sire," returned Santi, " By your command I
am doomed to widowhood."
" I did not know you then, Mother. I did not
realise the strength of the string when I pulled so hard.
You are wiser than I am, you must find a way out
of this scrape. Do not tell Jivananda that I know
everything. For your sake he has saved his life so
long, and he may save it longer yet. If he does that
my object will be gained."
There was a flash of rage in those large, blue and
blooming eyes, like the flash of lightning in the mid-
night clouds. "Why, Sire!" Santi retorted, "I and
my husband are but one soul. I shall certainly tell
him everything that has passed between you and me.
He may die, if he must. There would be no harm done
to me, for I shall die with him. He has got a Heaven to
gato, is it ? — So have 1."
The Celebate answered, " I have never been worsted
before, like this, but I confess my defeat to you to-day.
Mother, 1 am your child.— Be kind to your child ; save
Jivananda's life, save your's, and my object will be
gained."
This time the lightning smiled in her face. " My
husband's duty is entirely in his hands," said Santi ;
" who am I that I should stand in the way of its per-
formance ? In this world the husband.is the. god of the
CHAPTER VII
H5
wife, but in the life beyond Duty is everybody's God.
To me my husband is very great, but greater is my duty,
and greater still to me is my husband's Duty. I may
forsake my duty if I will, but stand in the way of my
husband's piety ? — No, Maharaj, that shall never be. My
husband may die at your command — I will not stop
him."
With a long-drawn sigh the Brahmacharin replied :
" Mother, sacrifice there must be in this great work of
ours. Every one of us will have to be sacrificed. I
shall die ; Jivananda, Bhavananda and every body else
will die ; you too, mother, may die. But think of this,
that it is best to die after doing some work. Why should
we die without doing any great work ? I have never
yet called anybody mother save my country. No one
but this well-watered land of ours, rich in dainty fruits, is
a mother to us. And now I call you my mother. As a
mother, you must do your work. Take care, by all
means, that the great object is gained. Save Jivananda's
life and save yours."
So saying Satyananda went out singing the glory
of the Lord.
10
Chapter VIII
The news spread among the Children that Satya-
nanda had come back and that he had called them to-
gether as he had some communication to make to them.
Then the community began to assemble in companies.
Ten thousand Children assembled under a sky against
which were set Mango, Jack, Palm, Tamarind, Banian,
Peepul, Simul and other trees. They then heard from
one another that Satyananda had returned, and made a
great hullaballoo for joy. People did not know where
Satyananda had gone and why. The rumour was that
he had gone to the Himalayas to pray for the good of
the Children, They now began to whisper, "The Maharaja
has succeeded in his prayer and the kingdom will now be
ours." At this there was a great noise. Some one
cried out, "Kill, kill the shaven knolls ?" Some said u Vic-
tory to the Maharaj !" Some cried out "Hari, Murari."
Others sang " Hail, Mother." One would say, " Brother,
is the", day really coming when, wretched Bengalees
that we are, we shall be able to lay down our lives
on the battlefield?" Another would say, "Brother,
would the day come when we shall be able to break
the mosque to raise the temple of Radha-Madhava
in its place." " Will the day come,' another said,
" when we ourselves shall enjoy our wealth." The
murmur of ten thousand tongues then mingled with
the rustle of leaves waved by the pleasant breeze and
CHAPTER VIII
147
the soft rumble of the rivulet running on its bed of
sands. There was also the green wood, the green earth,
the limpid stream running by, the white sandbed
spread out and blooming flowers smiling. At intervals
rose the song " Hail, mother," so pleasing to everybody.
Satyananda then appeared and stood before the
assembly of the Children. The heads of ten thousand
Children were forthwith lowered to the ground, illumined
by the moonbeams straggling through interstices of the
leaves. With his hands raised to the sky and with tears
glistening in his eyes, Satyananda spoke at the top of
his voice : " The Lord of Baikuntha, who wears the gar-
land of wild flowers and holds the Conch, the Disc, the
Club and the Lotus, who killed the demon Kesi and
slew Madhu, Mur and Naraka, May He bless you, give
you strength in your arms, devotion in your heart
and inspire you to piety. You just sing His glory first."
Then the ten thousands voices sang : —
" When deluge sank the worlds,
On the water endless,
Vedas thou didst uphold
Like a frigate fearless.—
O Lord of worlds that wore
The form of Fish of Yore."
Satyananda blessed them again and said : "Children,
to-day I have something particular to tell you. An
unbeliever and miscreant named Thomas has killed
many of our flock. Tonight we shall destroy him
with his entire force. This is the Lord's command—
what say you to this ? "
148
THE ABBEY OF BUSS
A tremendous uproar rent the sky with shouts of
" Han, Han." Echoes were heard from distant hills.
" We'll kill them even now, show us where they are."
" Kill, kill, kill the enemy/ 1 went the cry. Satyananda
then said : " But we have to possess our souls in
patience for the purpose. The enemy has got cannon,
and without cannons we can never hope to fight with
them. Besides they are a heroic race. Seventeen guns
will reach us today from the Fort of Padachinha ; when
they come we shall march to fight. Look, the day is
dawning, when it is four dandas we shall — What's
that ? "
,f Boom-oom-om " suddenly roared the guns on
all sides of the vast wood. It was the artillery of
Captain Thomas. He had arranged to surround the
army of Children in this mango grove and kill
them like fishes in a net.
Chapter IX
" Boom-oom-oom-oom," roared the English guns.
The vast forest shook with the sound and echoed back
" boom-oom-oom-oom." Meandering through the banks
of the river was echoed from the distant horizon
the sound " boom-oom-oom-oom." It • entered the
other forest beyond the stream and sounded there
" boom-oom-oom-oom." Satyananda ordered, " come
one to see whose guns they are." Some Children instant-
ly jumped on horses and went about to see ; but no
sooner had they come to some distance out of the woods
than cannon balls were showered on them like the
rain drops of Sravan and they all fell with their horses.
Satyananda saw all this from a distance. "Mount a lofty
tree," he said, " and see what it is." Before he said this,
Jivananda had done so and was watching in the light
of dawn. From a high branch he shouted downwards,
" It is the English gun."
" Infantry or Cavalry " asked Satyananda.
t( Both."
" How many are they ?"
** Can't guess, they are still coming out of the woods."
" Only sepoys ? or are there Europeans too ?"
" There are Europeans."
Satyananda then asked Jivananda to come down
from the tree, which he did.
THE ABBE Y OF BUSS
" There are ten thousand Children present today,
and you are their general for the day. See what you can
do with them." Jivananda got himself fully armed and
jumped on his horse. Only once he cast a glance on
Nabinananda Goswami, and by it signified something
to him which none could understand. Nor could any
body know what Nabinananda answered with a glance ;
only they knew between themselves that very likely
that was their last meeting this side of the grave. Then
Nabinananda raised his right hand and said : "Brothers,
sing now the glory of the Lord."
Then the ten thousand Children, with thousands of
arms uplifted, sang with one voice, resounding the
woods and the sky and drowning the roar of can-
nons : —
" To lay the Mleccha low
With sword relentless " —
At this time the shower of the English balls be^an
to fall on the woods and among the Children's force.
Some fell singing, with their head or hand or heart
pierced, but no one stopped singing.
When the song was finished every one was still.
The dense forest, the sand bed of the river, and that in-
finite loneliness, — all was plunged into deep silence. Only
the dreadful roar of cannons, the murmur of the distant
soldiers' voices, the rustle of their arms and their heavy
tread occasionally disturbed the silence.
Then Satyananda shouted forth : " Han, the Lord
of Universe, will help you — how far are the guns ? "
CHAPTER IX
Some one answered from above : " Very near the
wood, only beyond a small field."
*' Who are you," asked Satyananda.
" I am Nabinananda " came the answer from above.
Then Satyananda said, "You are ten thousand and
you must win. Go and seize the guns."
Then Jivananda who rode before said, " Come."
The ten thousand Children, infantry and cavalry,
followed Jivananda. The foot-soldier carried a musket
on his shoulder, a sword by his side and a spear in his
hand. So soon as they came out, they were shattered by
a profuse shower of bullets. Numerous Children fell to
the ground without a fight. Some one said to Jivananda :
" What's the use of killing people without the chance of
a fight ? "
Jivananda turned round and saw it was Bhavananda,
He asked, " What do you want me to do now ?"
" Let us defend ourselves from the woods under the
shelter of the trees. Without a gun, our army will not
stand for one moment the shower of bullets in open
space. But we can keep up the fight pretty long from
behind the wood."
J. You are right, no doubt, but our master has
ordered that the cannon must be seized.
B. No one can do that. But if it must be done,
you had better stay ; I will go.
J. That cannot be, Bhavananda, to-day I am to die.
B. It is I that must die to-day.
J. I must make my expiation.
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
B. You are sinless — you have nothing to expiate.
I have a guilty mind. 1 will have to die. You had
better stay and let me go.
J. I do not know what sin you are guilty of. But
I know this that if you live the Children s mission will
be fulfilled. Let me go,
Bhavananda was silent for a while and said : Today
will I die if there is need ; I will die whenever the
necessity arises. There is not a good and a bad time
for death.
J. Then come.
After this Bhavananda advanced and stood at the
head of the army. At that time showers of cannon
balls were working havoc in the ranks of the army of
the Children, — cutting them to pieces, tearing them and
throwing them overhead. Besides, the sepoys with
their guns laid rows of Children low with a sure aim.
" Into this fire have the Children to jump today," said
Bhavananda. " Comrades, sing now, who can, " Hail
mother/' Then thousands of Children sang aloud
" Hail, Mother" in the deep strains of the Meghmallar
tune and to the time of the cannon's roar.
Chapter X
The army often thousand Children advanced swiftly
upon the artillery with their spears up, singing 'Hail,
Mother.' They were killed in numbers and rent as-
sunder, terribly suffering from the incessant shower of
cannon balls ; but still they did not turn back. Presently
a body of sepoys charged them with their bayonets
on their right flank under the orders of Captain Thomas.
Attacked from both sides the Children then gave up all
hopes. Hundreds of them were being killed at every
moment. Jivananda then said, " Bhavananda, you are
right. There is no need for the massacre of more
Vaishnavas. Let us slowly retire/'
" How can you retire now ? Whoever turns back
now will die."
" We have been attacked on the front and in the
right flank, there is nothing on the left. Come let us
turn round and retire by the left."
" Where could you retire ? Don't you know there is
a river that side which has been swelled by the rains ?
Do you mean to drown the army of Children in the
river ?
" But there is a bridge on it, I think."
41 If ten thousand soldiers were to cross by that
bridge, they would make such a hopeless rush that, I
am ^ure, with one gun the enemy could easily destroy
our whole army."
154
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
" Do one thing ; you keep a few of them with you.
From the courage and tact which you have shown in
the fight, I am sure, nothing would be impossible for you.
You may keep the enemy engaged with this small force,
and, under the cover of your force, I may take the rest
across the river. Those who stay with you are sure to
die. Those who come with me may be saved. 1 '
ft Very well, I shall do so." So saying Bhavananda
again charged the English artillery with two thousand
soldiers with great energy, lustily shouting, " Hail,
Mother." A fierce fight raged there, but the small army
of Children could not stand long before the artillery.
The gunners mowed them down like ripe crop.
In the meantime Jivananda, with the rest of the
Children turned slightly to the left and rounding the
wood marched on to the bridge. Lieutenant Watson,
an assistant of Thomas, saw from a distance that a body
of Children were slowly retiring. He therefore quickly
followed them with a company of Foujdari sepoys and
a company of Pergunnah sepoys.
Captain Thomas saw this. Seeing that the main
body of Children were flying away, he said to an officer
named Captain Hay : " With two or three hundred
sepoys I shall slay these rebels here, you just follow
them there with the guns and the rest of the force.
Lieutenant Watson goes by the right, you attack them
from the left ; but the access to the bridge must be
blocked first ; when that is done we can surround them
on three sides and kill them like birds in a net.
CHAPTER X
155
Remember you have to deal with swift-footed native
troops, with whom retreating is the strongest point.
You cannot easily reach them by following ; so you
had better despatch your cavalry by a -'round-about way
to block the bridge. That will finish the business."
Captain Hay went out with Thomas' orders.
" Lanka fell for the pride of its ruler," they say.
Captain Thomas in his supreme scorn for the Children
kept only two hundred of the infantry with him to
fight Bhavananda and sent away the re*t with Hay.
The clever Bhavananda saw that the English guns
and the major part of their forces were gone and
found that what remained of it might be easily
destroyed. He then called out such of his troops as
yet survived and said : " We have got to go and help
Jivananda after slaying these few soldiers. Comrades,
cry again, Victory to Hari, the Lord of Universe."
The handful of the Children then cried " Victory to
Hari, Lord of Universe " and fell on Captain Thomas
like tigers. The handful of sepoys and Telingis could
not stand the fury of that attack and fell. Bhavananda
himself then jumped on Captain Thomas and caught
him by his hair. He had been fighting to the last.
Bhavananda said, " Captain Saheb, we shall not kill
you ; the English are not our enemies. But why did
you come In as friends of the Mussulmans ? Come, I
shall save your life, and for the present you are my
prisoner. We wish all joy to Englishmen, we are your
friends."
156 THE ABBEY OF BUSS
Captain Thomas then tried to raise a gun mounted
with a bayonet to kill Bhavananda, but Bhavananda
had caught him like a tiger and he could not move.
Then at Bhavananda's command two or three Children
bound him down. Bhavananda said, •* Take him on a
horse and let us go to the aid of Jivananda."
Then the few soldiers tied Captain Thomas to a
horse and ran after Lieutenant Watson, crying " Hail,
Mother."
The Children under Jivananda were demoralised and
were about to fly. Jivananda and Dhirananda ex-
pected them to keep them to the ranks. But they could
not manage everybody. Some fled to take shelter in
the mango grove. The rest of the soldiers Jivananda
and Dhirananda took to the bridge. But there Hay and
Watson attacked them from two sides and it seemed
to be all over with them.
Chapter XI
At this time Thomas's guns reached the right flank
and made havoc among the Children ; — there was no
hope of anybody escaping. Most of the Cnildren fled
where they could. Jivananda and Dhirananda tried
their best to keep them together in form but to no avail.
At that time somebody cried out, " To the bridge, to the
bridge 1 cross the river or you will be drowned ! Go to
the bridge with your face towards the English army."
Jivananda looked forward and saw Bhavananda
before him. Bhavananda said to Jivananda, " Go to the
bridge or there is no hope." Then their army slowly
backed to the bridge. On reaching the bridge, too many
Children rushed for it at the same time and gave a great
opportunity to the English guns which began to sweep
the bridge. The Children were killed in large numbers.
Bhavananda, Dhiranandra and Jivananda were together.
One gun in particular was working much ruin among
the Children and at Bhavananda's command thev
then rushed on this gun and after a fierce fight captured
it. Bhavananda then stood on the gun and cried, " Say,
'Hail, Mother'/' and they echoed his cry. Bhavananda
then said : " Jivananda, come let us turn this gun and
make a pulp of these rogues like the flour pulp for luchi."
The Children turned the gun round and it then roared
with a noise that sounded like " Hari, Han," in the ears
of the Vaishnavas. It killed many sepoys. Bhavananda
THE ABBEY OF BUSS
dragged the gun to the mouth of the bridge and, after
placing it there, asked Dhirananda and Jivananda
to take the Children across the river by the bridge.
Twenty choice Children only remained with him to
cover their retreat
Then innumerable Children crossed the bridge under
the command of Jivananda and Dhirananda. Bhava-
nanda alone with twenty Children killed many of the
enemy's soldiers with one gun. But they were like the in-
numerable waves thrown up by the wind. They surround-
ed Bhavananda, pressed him and almost drowned him
with their numbers. Bhavananda was unwearied, invin-
cible and intrepid — he killed numbers of soldiers at each
roar of the cannon. The infidel force made sallies on him
like waves propelled by storm but the twenty Children
effectually stopped access to the bridge with the gun.
They did not die even when it seemed they must — and
the infidels could not enter the bridge. Those heroes
were invincible and, it would seem, immortal. The army
of Children made good use of the opportunity to cross to
the other side of the stream in large numbers. A little
time more and they would all safely reach the other
side ! But just then was heard, whence they knew not,
a roar of fresh guns. Both parties suspended the
fight for a moment and looked where the guns might
be. They found that out of the woods came out some
guns manipulated by native gunners. On coming out,
that great line of guns showered fire on the troops
of Captain Hay, throwing out clouds of smoke from
C II A PIER XI 1 5 g
their seventeen mouths. The woods and the hills all
resounded with the deep roar. The infidel force, weary
with fighting all day, shuddered for fear of their lives.
Telingis, Mussulmans, up-country men, all fled before
the fire ; only a few white soldiers remained to die at
their posts.
Bhavananda was watching the fun of it. " Comrades "
he said, "the enemies are breaking away, come
let us fall on them." Then the army of Children
recrossed the river in large numbers with new zeal
and ran to attack the infidels and fell on them.
These had not the opportunity to fight again. Like
the huge and proud mad tusker who was carried away
by the waves of the Bhagirathi, the infidels were swept
away by the Children. They found that behind them
was Bhavananda's force and before them the eruns.
Captain Hay was then done for ; nothing remained for
his forces then. All soldiers,— Foujdari and Badshahi,
English and native, black and white— all fell or fled.
Jivananda, Dhirananda and Bhavananda pursued them,
took their guns, and killed many Europeans and sepoys.
Seeing the disaster, Hay and Watson sent a message
to Bhavananda offering to surrender and forbidding
further bloodshed. Jivananda looked at Bhavananda
but he said " No, that cannot be, I have got to die
to-day.' 1 Then Bhavananda raised his hand and with a
loud Harihol fell on them furiously.
No one survived the sally. Only 20 or 30 white
soldiers gathered themselves in one place determined
160 THE ABBEY OF BLISS
to die and made a fierce fight. Jivananda said, " Bhava-
nanda, we have won the fight ; no one but these few
are now alive. There is no more need to fight. Come let
us bid these men live and retire." Bhavananda said, " I
am not going to retire while one of them lives ; Jivananda,
I beseech you, stand apart and see how many English-
men I slay alone."
Captain Thomas was tied to a horse. Bhavananda
commanded him to be placed before him and said,
" That fellow will die before myself."
Captain Thomas understood Bengali. He therefore
said to the English soldiers, " Englishmen, I am dead,
you must save the good name of old England. By
Jesus Christ, I request you to kill me first and then
these rebels."
A bullet hissed along. An Irishman had hit Captain
Thomas. The brave Captain died with the bullet
through his brain. Bhavananda then called out, " My
best arrow is gone and I am done for. Who is there,
what hero like Arjuna, Bhima, Nakul or Sahadeva that
can save me? Look, the whites are making for me like
a tiger that's hit. I have come to die. Is there any
Child who wants to die with me ?" The first to advance
was Dhirananda, after him was Jivananda, and after
them came ten, fifteen, twenty and then fifty Children.
Seeing Dhirananda, Bhavananda asked, " Why, you
too have come to die with us, Eh ?"
" Why," answered Dhirananda, " Death is not your
fee-simple." With this he wounded a white soldier
CHAPTER XII
u I did not mean that," said Bhavananda, " but you
cannot pass your days happily in the company of your
wife and children."
lt Oh, you are speaking of yesterday's affair. You
have not understood it yet, I am afraid." (Dhirananda
killed the wounded soldier).
" No " said Bhavananda. Just then his right arm
was cut down by a white soldier.
" It was not for me to venture to tell you ali those
things. I was sent as a spy by Satyananda."
tf What exclaimed Bhavananda, " the Master
doubts my faith ?" Bhavananda was fighting with one
hand. Dhirananda defended him and said : " He heard
with his own ears the conversation that passed between
you and Kalyani."
w How ?"
He was then at that place. Look sharp 1" (Bhava-
nanda was struck by a white soldier but warded off the
blow), " He was teaching Gita to Kalyani when you
came. Take care." (Bhavananda's left hand too was
now cut down).
B. Give him the news of my death and tell him I
am no traitor.
Dhirananda' s eyes were filled with tears. Fighting
on, he said : " He knows it. Recall his blessing to you
last night. He told me to-day, *Keep near Bhavananda
during the fight, he will die to-day. Tell him when he
is dying that I have blessed him and am sure that he
will reach Baikuntha after death'."
I r
162
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
" Victory to the Children" cried Bhavananda.
" Friends, let me once hear the song 'Hail, Mother' at
the time of my death. 1 '
At Dhirananda's bidding, the Children, mad with
fighting, sang 'Hail, Mother' with great gusto. Their
arms were doubly strengthened by the song, and in that
terrible moment the rest of the English army was slain.
There was not one enemy left on the field.
At; that moment Bhavananda breathed his last, sing-
ing ' Hail, Mother' and contemplating the blessed feet
of Vishnu.
Ah ! Woman's Beauty ! What an accursed thing is
it on earth.
Chapter XIII
After the battle was won the victors were jubilant
over their success and made great demonstrations round
Satyananda, But he was sad for Bhavananda's death.
So long the Vaishnavas had not much musical
accompaniment of the fight, but now thousands of drums
and sanais, trumpets and other instruments, appeared
on the scene. The woods and wilds, the river and the
hills, were all filled with the din of victory and its echo.
After they had exulted thus for some time, Satyananda
said : "Heaven has smiled on us and the Children's cause
has come out victorious. But we have one work yet
left to do. It will not do to forget those who can no
more join us in our triumph and who have given up
their lives to give us this festive occasion. Come, let
us go and cremate those who are lying dead on the
field. Specially should we do our duty by the hero
who won this battle and died for us and cremate
Bhavananda with due honour."
The Children then went in a body to cremate the
dead, crying ' Hail, Mother.' Several men carried loads
of sandal wood, crying Haribol, and with them built a
pyre for Bhavananda. Laying him on it they fired the
pyre and sang 'Hare Mnrare' around it. The Children
were worshippers of Vishnu but did not belong to the
sect of the Vaishnavas. They therefore burnt their
dead and did not bury them.
164
THE ABBE V OP BUSS
After that Satyananda, Jivananda, Mahendra,
Nabinauanda and Dhirananda sat down in the wood
to deliberate. " The object with which we had so long
renounced all pleasures and all other duties has been
gained. There is no longer any infidel force in this
part of the country. What remains of it will not be able
to stand for a moment before us. What do you now
advise us to do ?"
Jivananda answered, " Let us now go and attack
the capital."
" That is my opinion too," said Satyananda.
" Where is the army for it?", asked Jivananda.
J. " Why, these soldiers of ours ? "
D. " Where are 1 these soldiers ? ' Whom do you
see here ?"
J. They are resting at places. They will all come
at the baat of our drum.
D. You won't find any one of them now.
" Why ?" inquired Satyananda.
D. They are all out looting. The villages are unpro-
tected now. They will now pillage the Mussulman villages
and the silk-factory and return home. You will not find
any one now. I have searched for them everywhere.
Satyananda was sorry but said : " However, this part
of the country has come under our sway. There is no
one here who can dispute our sovereignty. So you will
now declare the Children's rule in the land of the
Barendras. Levy taxes from the people and recruit an
army for an attack on the city. Good many soldiers
CHAPTER XIII 165
will come under our flag if they hear that a Hindu
kingdom has been established."
Then Jivananda and others bowed to him and said :
" Maharaj, if you so command, we shall establish your
throne in these woods."
Satyananda flew into a rage for the first time in his
life. " For shame," he said, " do you take me for an
empty vessel like that ? We are none of us a kinsr ; we
are all ascetics. The Lord of Baikuntha himself is the
king of this country. When the city is conquered, you
may give the crown to whomsoever you like, but know
this for sure that no state but that of a monk shall be
mine. You may now go to do your several duties."
Then the four bowed to Satyananda and rose to
go, when Satyananda made a sign to Mahendra, to stay,
unnoticed by others. The other three went away
and Mahendra waited. Satyananda then said to him,
" You all did take your vow in the temple of Vishnu.
Bhavananda and Jivananda failed to keep it. Bhava-
nanda has made the expiation promised. I am always
in fear that some day Jivananda too will give up his
life by way of expiation. I have one hope however ;
for some secret reason he will not be able to die now.
You alone have kept your faith. The object of the
Children has been gained. Your vow was that you
should not see the face of your wife and child till our
work was done. Now It is done. You may now be a
householder again."
Torrenis of tears rained down Mahendra 's cheeks.
166
7 HE ABBEY OF BLISS
He said : " Sire, with whom am I to build my home
again ? My wife poisoned herself before I took the vow,
and I do not know where my daughter is. Nor do I
know where I am to look for her. You told me she
lives yet, and that is all that I know of her."
Satyananda then called Nabinananda and introduced
this young ascetic to Mahendra with these words.
" This is Nabinananda Goswami — a very pure soul
and a favourite disciple of mine. Nabinanda will give
you all information about your daughter." So saying,
Satyananda made a sign to her. Santi understood the
sign, bowed to him, and was about to go when Mahendra
asked, " Where may I see you ?"
" Come to my cottage please," she said, and herself
showed him the way.
Mahendra made ' his obeisance to Satyananda and
departed with Santi to her cottage. The night was
then far advanced, but Santi did not stop. She was
going to the town.
When all of them had left and the monk was alone,
he bowed his head and, lowering it to the ground, en-
gaged himself in meditating the glory of the Lord.
The night was well nigh up when some one came and
touched him on his head and said " I have come."
The monk rose startled, and anxiously said, " You
have come ? Why ?"
" Your time is up," was the answer.
" My lord," said Satyananda, " forgive me to-day, I
shall do your bidding on the next full-moon day of Magh."
PART IV
Chapter I
On that night that part of the country rang with
shouts of Harinam. Parties of Children went about
everywhere, some singing 'Hail, Mother* and somQ'ffare
Murare? Some despoiled the fallen enemies of clothes
and others of arms. Some would kick at the face of the
dead and inflict other injuries, Some ran to the villages
and others to the towns and then caught hold of passers-
by or householders and said, "Say, Hail, Mother or you
die." Some looted sweetmeat shops, others went to the
milkmen's houses and sucked away potfuls of curd.
During that night, the whole country was in a
great ferment. Everybody said, " The Moslems have
been defeated and the country has come back to
the Hindus ; cry Hari, Hari." The villagers would chase
any Mussulman that they would meet — some would
combine and go to the Mussalrnan quarters to
set fire to their houses and pillage them. Many
Moslems shaved off their beards, smeared their bodies
with earth and sung Harinam. When challenged, they
would say in their own patois that they were Hindus.
The terrified Mussulmans flew to the city in large
numbers. The State officials went bustling about and
the remnant of the sepoy force ranged themselves for
the defence of the town. In all the various points of the
fortifications of the town, fully armed soldiers set
themselves to mount guard with care. All men kept awake
i68
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
the whole night and wondered what was coming.
Hindus thought, "Let the Sannyasins come ; may mother
Durga so ordain that this may happen." Mussulmans
said, " Allaho Akbar ! Is the Quoran Sherif going to
turn all false after such a long time ? We say our
prayers at all the five prescribed hours, and yet we have
not been able to defeat the rabble of Hindus with tilaks
on their brow. Alas, the world is a huge sham." So
some wept and some smiled and all passed the night
on the tip-toe of fear.
All this reached Kalyani's ears ; in fact no one, old or
young, was unaware of it. Kalyani said to herself, " God
be praised, Thy work is done now. To day I shall go
to see my husband, Madhusudan help me."
At the dead of night Kalyani left her bed, opened
the backdoor, looked on all sides, and, finding nobody
about, silently came out of Gouri Devi's house to the
highway. She prayed to her own god and said " Look,
lord, that I may not fail to see him at Padachinha to-
night."
Kalyani arrived at the gate. The warder cried, "Who
goes there ? " Kalyani was frightened and said, " I am
a woman." The warder said, " Nobody may cross the
gate, that's the order." This reached the ears of the
Daffadar who said, " There is no prohibition against
going out, it's only against anybody's coming in." The
warder then said to Kalyani, in broken Bengali ; " Go,
mother, there's no bar to your going. But it ts a risky
thing to venture out to-night. Who knows what may
CHAPTER I
happen to you? I do not know but that you might fall
in the hands of robbers or into a ditch. This night,
mother, you should not go out"
Kalayani said, " My child, I am a beggar woman
and have not got a cowrie with me ; the robbers, I am
sure, wont molest me."
"But you have youth, mother," slyly observed the
warder, "you have youth. That is the greatest jewel
now-a-days. Why, even I may turn a robber for that."
Kalyani saw it was dangerous to stay there, and,
without saying another word, slowly passed the watch.
The warder saw that the ' mother ' did not appreciate
his joke, and in his anguish gave a mighty pull at his
hemp and began a song of love in the Jhinjhit Kkambaj
tune. Kalyani went away.
On that night the roads swarmed with hoards of
passers-by, some crying ( kill, kill ' and others crying
' fly, fly,' some laughing and others crying. Everybody
made for every one whom he saw. Kalyani was in great
distress. She did not remember the way nor could she
ask anybody how it lay, for everybody looked suspicious.
She could only hide herself in the dark as she walked.
Even while she was going on, she was discovered by a
company of insolent and excited rebels. They made a
loud shout and ran to catch hold of her. Kalyani
then ran breathlessly into the woods. There too, some
robbers followed her. One caught hold of the skirt of
her cloth and said, " What now, my good creature ? "
At that movement another suddenly came up and gave a
170
THE ABBE Y OF BLISS
blow to the miscreant with a stick. The fellow then
fell back wounded. The person who now came was
quite young, had a devotee's garbs, and had a black
deer-skin over the breast This person now said to
Kalyani : " You need not fear, do just come with me.
Where would you go ? "
" To Padachinha."
The new-comer started up. " What ! to Padachinha,"
the stranger exclaimed, and placing a hand on Kalyani's
shoulder, gazed with care on her face in the dark.
Kalyani shuddered at this touch of what seemed
to her a man's hand. She was struck with fear and
amazement and her eyes filled with tears. It was
not in her power to fly away, for she was stupefied
with fear. The new-comer scrutinised her carefully
and cried : " ' Hare Murarel I know you, you are the
wretch Kalyani."
Kalyani was frightened. "Who are you?," she
asked.
" I am the slave of your slaves," said the new-comer.
" O beauty, do thou look on me with favour."
Kalyani rushed away from the spot and said, burning
with rage : " Was it to insult me thus that you saved
my life ? I see you wear a celebate's garb, but is this the
work of one of your order? I am helpless now, or I
would have kicked you at your face."
The ascetic said : " Oh, you smiling beauty, for a
long time have 1 longed for a touch of your buxom
person." So saying, the stranger rushed towards Kalyani
CHAPTER I
171
and held her In a deep embrace. Then Kalyani
laughed heartily and said : "Bless thy wretched lot, I did
not know that you were in the same boat with me."
Santi asked, " My friend, are you going in search of
Mahendra ? " " Who are you," asked Kalyani, " you
seem to know everything."
" I am a monk," was the answer, u a captain of the
Children's army and a fearful hero ! I know everything.
The road to Padachinha is so infested with sepoys and
Children that you can never reach Padachinha to-night."
Kalyani wept.
Santi playfully turned her eyeballs as she said :
" Why are you afraid ? We kill thousands with the
shafts in our eyes. Come, let us go to Padachinha."
Kalyani thought herself immensely fortunate in
having secured the aid of such a clever woman and said
" I shall go wherever you take me."
Santi then led her on through the woods.
Chapter II
When Santi left her house at dead of night and left
for the town, Jivananda was present there. She told him :
I am going to town to get Mahendra's wife. You
just tell him that his wife lives."
Jivananda had heard from Bhavananda all about
his saving Kalyani's life and he had heard of her present
whereabouts from Santi who was wont to travel to all
places. By and by he told all this to Mahendra.
Mahendra could not believe it at first and then he
was overpowered with joy.
Next morning Mahendra and Kalyani met through
the good offices of Santi. Before the birds and beasts
had risen from their sleep, they met each other in that
still forest, under the dark shade of the thickly-placed
sal trees. There was none to witness the meeting, save
the pale stars on the azure sky and the steady and
endless line of trees. Afar there was the sweet murmur
of some small rumbling stream that sang with the
touch of pebbles, and anon there was the stray
cooing of an early cuckoo, delighted with the glow on
the crest of Dawn shining in the east.
When it was one prahar* after daybreak, Jivananda
and Santi appeared there. Kalyani said to Santi : " We
are sold as slaves to you for the service you have
* One prahar is about three hours.
CHAPTER II
done us. Do just complete your kindness by informing
me about my daughter."
Santi looked at Jivananda's face and said, " I shall
sleep now. For the whole time I have not sat once ;
for the last two nights I have had no rest. I have
borne all this only because I am such a manly person."
Kalyani smiled a little. Jivananda looked at
Mahendra and said : " I take that charge. You go to
Padachinha ; there you will get your daughter."
Jivananda went to Bharuipur to get the child from
Nimai. The work was not altogether easy.
Nimai first gulped a draught of air ; then she looked
about ; then her lips and nostrils swelled ; at last she
broke into tears and cried out : " I won't give you
the child."
Nimai began to rub her eyes with the back of her
round arms. This done, Jivananda said : " Well, but
sister, why do you weep ? The place isn't far away.
You might as well go to their house now and then and
see the child."
Nimai's lips swelled again as she angrily retorted :
" Well, well, take her away ; your thing you may take
away ; what's that to me ?" She then brought Sukumari
there, and, throwing her angrily before Jivananda, spread
out her legs and sat down to cry. So, Jivananda did
not speak more about it and began to speak of odd
things of all sorts. But Nimai's anger was not soothed.
She went away and began to throw before Jivananda
one by one Sukumari's bundle of clothes, her box of
174
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
ornaments, the ribbons for her hair and her playthings.
Sukumari began to arrange the things herself and asked
Nimai : " Well, ma, Where am I to go ? " Nimai could
bear it no longer. She took Sukumari in her lap and
went away weeping.
Chadter III
Mahendra and Kalyani, Jivananda and Santi, Nimai
and her husband were all of them together now in
the new fort of Padachinha and were leading a happy
life. Santi came dressed as Nabinananda. On the
night on which she brought Kalyani to her cottage,
she had asked her not to give out to her husband that
she was a woman. One day, Kalyani called her into
the zenana. Nabinananda came there. The servants
forbade her but she would not hear.
On coming to Kalyani, Santi asked, " Why have
you sent for me ? " " How long are you going to dress
yourself as a man ? " inquired Kalyani : " I cannot talk
to you peely. You must let my husband know of your
identity."
Nabinananda grew very thoughtful and for a long
time did not speak. At last he said, " Kalyani, there
is great harm in that."
They then began to talk about it. Now, the servants
who had forbidden Nabinananda from going into the
zenana informed Mahendra that Nabinananda had
entered there in spite of protest on their part. Mahendra
crrew curious and came to the zenana. On entering
Kalyani's bed-room, he found Nabinananda standing
in that room and Kalyani undoing the knots that
fastened the tiger-skin to the breast of that ascetic.
Mahendra was amazed and very angry. Nabinananda
176
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
saw him and said smiling : " Well, Gossain, it comes to
this then that one Child does not trust another ? "
Mahendra said, " Was Bhavananda Thakur worthy of
trust ? "
Nabinananda turned her eyes as she said, " But did
Kalyani touch him or unfasten the tiger-skin from his
breast ?" He caught hold of Kalyani's hand and pre-
vented her from doing it any longer.
" What of that ? " Mahendra asked.
" Well, you may suspect me, but how could you sus-
pect Kalyani ? " asked Nabinananda.
Mahendra was confounded at this and said : " Why,
how does it appear that I suspect her ? "
" Then why have you followed me at my heels to
the zenana ? "
" Oh ! I came because I wanted to have a word with
Kalyani."
" Then you may go now, I too have got something to
say to Kalyani. You just go away and let me have my
say first. It is your own house, you may always come
and go. It is with difficulty that I have come once."
" Mahendra looked very foolish. He could not
understand anything. These were not words that a
guilty man could speak. Kalyani too behaved curiously.
She did not fly away or get afraid nor did she look
ashamed like an unfaithful wife ; — on the contrary she
smiled softly. And, indeed, Kalyani, who so easily took
poison for him, — could she be unfaithful ? Mahendra was
turning all this, in her mind when the wretch of a Santi,
CHAPTER 111
177
amused at Mahendra's discomfiture, smiled and threw
a wistful look at Kalyani. The darkness was at once
dispelled from Mahendra's eyes and he recognised that
it was a woman's glance. Boldly he pulled by the
beards of Nabinananda ; the false beards and moustache
came oft'. Taking advantage of the moment, Kalyani
too untied the knot that fixed the tiger-skin which
slipped off from Santi's breast. Found out, Santi stood
abashed with her eyes fixed on the ground.
Mahendra then asked Santi, " Who are you ? "
" I am Nabinananda Goswami."
" That's a sham, you are a woman ! "
" So it turns out now."
" Then I shall ask you one thing ; why do you, being
a woman, live constantly with Jivananda Thakur."
" It is better that I should not tell you that."
" Does Jivananda know that you are a woman ? "
" He does."
The pure-souled Mahendra was very sorry to hear
this. Seeing him in such a plight, Kalyani could contain
herself no longer and said, "She is Jivananda Goswami's
married wife, Santi Devi."
For a moment Mahendra's face brightened up with
joy. At the next, it was covered with gloom. Kalyani
understood what was passing in his mind and said, " But
she was sworn to a virgin life."
12
Chapter IV
Northern Bengal had slipped out of the hands of the
Mussulmans. Mussulmans none of them, however, ad-
mitted it. They played hide and seek with the true state
of things in this matter, 'and said that some plunderers
were creating much disturbance and that they were
about to suppress them. One does not know how long
this game would have gone on had not Providence placed
Warren Hastings in the office of the Governor-General at
Calcutta. Hastings was not a man to play with his con-
victions, — if he had known the game, the British Empire
in India would have been nowhere to-day. So a second
General, named Major Edwards, presently arrived on the
scene with a new army to suppress the Children .
Edwards saw, it was no warfare on European lines.
The enemy had no army, no cities, no forts, — yet every-
thing was under them. Whenever the British army
encamped at any place, that place, was under the British
sway for that day. The next day so soon as the British
army left, "Hail, mother" were sung in that neigh-
bourhood. The Major could not make out whence the
Children emerged like an army of ants any night and
how they burnt the village which may have fallen under
British sway or killed small parties of British soldiers
wherever they could find them. On enquiry he came
to learn however that they had built a fort at Pada-
chinha and were keeping their magazine and treasury
CHAPTER IV
179
there. So he thought it expedient to take possession
of that place.
By means of spies he obtained information as to
how many soldiers there were in Padachinha. The
information he received did not encourage him to make
an attack on the fort. He then developed a clever
device in his mind.
The full-moon day of Magh was nigh. On that day
there would be held a big fair on the river bank not
far from his camp. This year the fair was going to be
held in great pomp. Usually at least a hundred
thousand men assembled in the fair. This year the
Vaishnavas had become the rulers of the land, and they
had resolved to make a great show in the fair. The
probabilities were that all the Children would assemble
in the fair on the full-moon day. Major Edwards
thought that the defenders of Padachinha too would all
come to the fair which would give him an opportunity
to surprise and occupy the fort.
With this object in view, he announced that he
would make an attack on the fair and root out the
Children* s community on a single day when they would
come together at one place. He would destroy the fire
of the Vaishnavas.
The news spread from village to village and whoever
belonged to the community donned his arms and flocked
to the fair for its defence. The Children all assembled
on the bank of the river on the full-moon day of
Magh just as the Major had expected. Fortunately for
i8o
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
the English, Mahendra too put his feet into the trap,
and, leaving a small garrison in the fort, left Padachinha
with the majority of the troops for the fair.
Jivananda and Santi had cume out of Padachinha
before all this happened. Then there was no talk of a
fight nor were they anxious for it at the time. They had
thought to sacrifice their lives as an expiation for break-
ing their vow in the holy water at an auspicious hour
of that holy full-moon day of Magh. But on the way
they heard that there would be a great fight of the as-
sembled Children with Englishmen in the fair. Then
Jivananda said, " Come then, we would rather die in
battle."
They began to walk fast. The road passed at one
spot over a mound and when they got on it the heroic
pair saw that below and not far from the mound stood
the English camp. " Leave alone the talk of death just
now," said Santi, " and cry 1 Hail, Mother ! 1 "
Chapter V
The two then had a short deliberation in whispers ;
which done, Jivananda hid himself in a thicket. Santi
entered another and engaged herself in a fine fun.
She was going to die, but she had determined to
die in a woman's dress. As Mahendra had told her, her
male costume was a mask and she could not carry it on
to death. So he had brought out with her the basket
which contained her toilette an —womanly dress.
Having put on her smart nose-print with a little
catechu patch between the eye-brows and covering her
blooming face with fine short curls after the fashion of the
day, Santi equipped herself with a sareng and appeared
in the guise of a singing Vaishnavi girl in the camp of
the Englishmen. Her sight upset the sepoys in their
jet black beards and moustache. Some bid her sing
love songs, some would have Gkuzl, others asked songs
to Kali and other again would hear about Krishna.
Some gave her rice, some dal, some sweets, some pice
and some again four-anna pieces. The Vaishnavi then
carefully informed herself of the state of the camp and
was about to leave, when the sepoys asked her as to
when she was going to pay them another visit.
" Can't say," she answered, " I 'live at a great dis-
tance."
" How far ?," asked they.
" I live at Padachinha," was the answer.
THE ABBEY OF BUSS
Now, the Major had on that day been trying- to get
some informations about Padachinha, and tin's one of
the sepoys knew. He took the Vaishnavi to the Captain
and the Captain took her to the Major. Before the
Major, the Vaishnavi smiled a maddening smile and
casting a wistful glance at him that pierced his heart,
she struck her small tambourine and sang the Sans-
krit song :
" To lay the MIechha low with the sword relentless."
The Major asked her in broken Bengali, " Where do
you live, Bibi"
" I am not a Bibi but a Vaishnavi ; I live at Pada-
chinha."
" Well, that is Padsin, Padsin is it ?", said the Cap-
tain in English, and then continued in Hindi, " is there
a gurh* there ?"
" Ghar} Oh, there are plenty oighars"^
" No, no, not ghar but gurh, gurh ! " said the
Major. Yet so were the words pronounced that there was
absolutely no distinction between the two.
" I understand what you mean," said Santi, "you
mean gurh ? "
" Yes, yes, gurh, gurh, is there a gurh ? "
'* Oh yes, a great fort."
" How many men ? "
" You mean how many men live there ? Oh, it is
about 20 or 50 thousand."
* Gurh is a fort,
t Ghar is a house.
CHAPTER V
i83
" Nonsense, there can be only two to four thousand
in a fort. Now, are they there at present or are they
gone out ? "
" Where could they go out ? "
" To the fair. When did you leave the place ? "
" Yesterday, sahib."
" Oh then, they must have gone but to-day."
Santi was musing within herself : "In vain have I
donned my nose-print if I can't plot your ruin. I
only want to see when jackals would be eating your
head. 1 ' To the Major she said, " I dono't know all
that. I am a Vaishnavi and go about singing from door
to door. I donot care to keep these informations. Now
I am quite tired of talking, give me my pice and
let me go. And; if you care to reward me well, I will get
you the informations day after tomorrow if you mind it."
The Major threw a rupee at her and said : " Not
day after tomorrow, Bidt"
" Off you wretch, say Vaishnavi and not Bibi"
" Not day after tomorrow, I want the information
this evening."
" Yes, you go to sleep \Vith that pleasant thought
with wine and a gun in your head and oil in your
nostrils ! To think that I shall be going these twenty
miles of the way and come back again to give him the
news ! chucho beta''
" What's a chucko beta"
" A hero — a great general:"
" Great general I well, I may be one like Give. But
184
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
I want the information tonight. A hundred rupees
will be your reward."
" Give a hundred or a thousand, what you will, but
these legs can't cover twenty miles,"
" Could you go on horseback ?"
" If I could ride a horse, do you think I should be
coming to your camp to sing and beg ?"
" Well, you may be carried on the lap. "
" On the lap ! Why, have I no modesty ? "
" What a fix ! I'll pay you five hundred rupees."
" Who will go with me ? Yourself ? "
The Major then pointed to a young Ensign named
Lindlay who stood before him and asked, "Well
Lindlay, would you go ? "
Lindlay looked at Santi's beauty and youth, and
answered, l( gladly."
A great Ar?*b horse was then brought there and
Lindlay dressed himself. He then tried to help Santi
on the horse but Santi said, " For shame ! not before so
many men. Let's go a little way out of the camp."
Lindlay mounted the horse and took it at a walking
pace, Santi following. So they came out of the camp.
Reaching the lonely plain out of the camp, Santi
put her foot on Lindlay's and lightly jumped on the
horse. Lindlay smiled and said, " I see you are a pucca
rider."
" Yes, such a one that I am ashamed to ride with
you! To think of riding a horse with feet in the
stirrup ! For shame !"
CHAPTER V
185
Lindlay proudly took away his feet from the stirrup.
Santi instantly caught him by the neck and threw him
to the ground. Then seating herself on the horse
a la mode, she spurred her horse with her anklets, and
rode away in full speed. During the four years that she
had spent with the Children, Santi had learnt the art of
riding, or else she could not have lived with Jivananda.
Santi went to the spot where Jivananda lay con-
cealed and informed him of the state of affairs. Jiva-
nanda said : " Then I shall instantly go to warn
Mahendra ; you better go and inform Satyananda. Go
on horseback, so that the Master mav be informed of
it earl)'." And the two started off in opposite direc-
tions. Needless to say, Santi was now transformed into
Nabinananda.
Chapter VI
Edwards was a pucca Englishman, He had a scout
at every point and the news sdon reached him that the
Vaishnavi had thrown Lindlay off his horse and herself
rode off. As soon as he heard this, Edwards said :
M An imp of Satan ! Strike the tents. 5 '
Instantly there was a great noise of hammers falling
on the tent-posts. Like an Elysian city built of clouds,
the city of canvas disappeared in a moment. Luggages
were thrown on carts, men rode off or walked on foot.
Hindus and Mussulmans, Madrassees and English,
marched solemnly on with guns oh their shoulders.
Mahendra, on the other hand, was on the way to
the fair with the whole host of the Children. That
afternoon he was thinking of encamping his forces as
the day was drawing to a close.
The Vaishnavas had no camps ; they spread their
humble beddings under trees and slept on it, living on
churnmnrita and making up the deficit by dreaming
sweets dreams. Close by was a place fit for encamp-
ment. It was a big garden full of mango, jack-fruit,
tamarind and babla trees. Mahendra chose this place
for encampment. Beside it was a mound that was
rather steep. Mahendra thought that on the mound
there would be better site for the purpose and thought
he would reconnoitre the spot himself.
He therefore sprang on a horse and slowly rode up
CHAPTER VI
187
the mound. After he had gone some way up the
mound, a young soldier came before the Vaishnava army
and said : " Come and mount up the hill."
Those who stood by asked in surprise, " Why ? "
The soldier stood on a small mound and said :
" Come, we shall have to fight the foe on the hill
yonder in this moonlit night, enjoying all the while
the sweet odour of the new flowers of the spring." The
Children saw it was Jivananda who spoke.
Then the whole army sprang up leaning upon
spears with a loud shout of " Hare Murare" and rushed
up the hill after Jivananda. One of the soldiers brought
him a horse which he rode.
From a distance, Mahendra was surprised to see
the army march without his orders. He therefore
turned his horse and rushed down at full speed. Seeing
Jivananda in front of the Children's force, he asked :
" Now, what fun is this ?"
Jivananda smiled and said : " It's a great fun—great
joy. On the other side of the hill is Edwards. Who
mounts the hill first gains the battle." Addressing the
army he said, " Do you know me ? I am Jivananda
Goswami, I have killed a thousand foes !"
The army replied with a voice that rang the woods
and wilds to the echo. " Say, then, Mare Murare" said
Jivananda. The war cry was repeated from thousands
of throats that rang throughout the woods.
" On the other side of the hill is the enemy. On the
summit of this mound and under the blue sky will the
THE ABBEY OF BUSS
Children fight their battle. Run fast. He who will first
mount the summit will win. Say 'Hail, mother' !"
This cry was likewise honoured with great zest.
Solemnly the Children 's force ascended the hill ; but
suddenly they saw with dismay that Mahendra Sinha
was fast riding down the hill and blowing his trumpet.
Presently the crest of the hill was filled with English
guns and gunners standing out against the azure sky.
The Vaishnava force sang catches from the song, " Hail,
Mother " but the roar of the English guns soon drowned
the solemn music. Hundreds of Children lay low on the
hills with their arms on them, killed or wounded.
'Boom-oom-oom-oom' roared out another volley from
the English guns, shaming the thunder of the sky and
the roar of breakers in the sea. The Children's army
were hewed down by it as ripe crops are by the
peasant's scythe. In vain did Jivananda and Mahendra
fight, — like rolling stones the Children rushed from
the hill and fled in all directions. " Hurrah ! Hurrah !"
shouted the English and marched down the hill to slay
the whole force. With their bayonets lowered, the fear-
ful and invincible British army rushed after the Children
like a great waterfall emerging from the hills.
Only once did Jivananda meet Mahendra and then
he said : " To-day is our last day ; come, let us die"here."
" If by dying we could win," said Mahendra, " I
would willingly die ; but to die in vain is not the hero's
ambition."
"In vain will I die," said Jivananda, " if in vain it
CHAPTER VI
.89
is to be ; but still I will die in battle/' Me then turned
round, and, addressing the fugitives, said : " Come with
me any one who wishes to die with the name of the
Lord on his lips."
Many came forward, but Jivananda said : " That
won't do ; swear in the name of the Lord that you will
not turn back with your life."
Th ose that had come forward withdrew. " None of
you will come ?" asked Jivananda. " All right ! then I
will go alone."
He then got himself on his saddle, and shouted to
Mahendra who was far away : " Tell Nabinananda that I
go. We will meet in the next world."
So saying the brave man spurred on his horse into
the thick of the fight amid showers of bullets. With
his left hand he held a spear, in his right a gun, and in
his mouth was the cry of " Hare, Murare" There was
no likelihood of anything like warfare ; still he shouted
" Hare, Murare" and rushed into the ranks of the
enemy.
Mahendra then called out to the flying Children :
u Look, you all do just look at Jivananda ; you can't be
dying if you only look at him,"
Some of the Children turned round and saw the
superhuman feat of Jivananda. They were at first as-
tonished at this and then exclaimed : " What ! he knows
how to die and not we} Come let us die with him and
go to Baikuntha"
At this some Children returned, and some of those
THE AJ} BEY OF BLISS
followed their example, and they were joined by others —
there was a great uproar. Jivananda had in the mean-
time entered the ranks of the enemy, and they saw him
no more.
The rest of the Children now saw that some of them
were returning. Every one thought that the Children
must have won the fight. The whole army therefore
turned round and rushed upon the English force.
Among the English forces too there was a great
confusion. The sepoys were forsaking the fight and
running away, the English soldiers too were making for
their camp with their arms. Looking round for an
explanation Manendi'? found, on the summit of the hill,
a large contingent of Children rushing down the hill on
the English from behind. He then called out to his
soldiers: " Children, look, there is Master Satyananda's
flag. The Lord Incarnate himself, the slayer of demons
and wicked men, have come to the fight. Myriads of
Children are on the hill. Say ( Hare 3 Murare' and crush
the Mussulman force from both sides."
The woods and wilds were then deeply stirred with
their loud shout in response. The weapons of the
Children mixed their clatter with the sound of the palm
leaves waved by the wind ; Mahendra's army proudly
mounted the hill and like stream turned back by a rock
the State forces were stunned, disturbed and struck
with fear. Satyananda, in the meanwhile, with his
twenty-five thousand Children, fell upon them like the
rushing sea and a tremendous fight ensued.
CHAPTER VI
The huge force of the English were crushed like a
' between two stones, and not one was left to carry
e news to Warren Hastings.
Ctia.pter VII
Tt was the full-moon night. The fearful field of
battle was now still. There was no more the patter of
horses, the rumble of guns, or the roar of cannons — no
more the 'Hurrahs' and the cries of " Had Han." The
only sound was that of jackals, dogs and vultures shout-
ing, and the piteous momentary wail of the wounded.
Some one had his hand cut off, another had his head
broken ; some was shot through the ribs, some, again was
weighed down by the carcass of a horse. Some cried for
water and some others anxiously wished for death.
Bengalees, Hindustanis, Englishmen, Mussulmans were
all huddled together. The living and the dead, men and
horses, were mixed up and lay on one another. The
field of carnage looked fearful under the full moon and in
the night of Magh no one dared come there.
No one dared, but in the dead of that night a woman
was walking in that field. She was looking about for
something from amid the mass of the dead with a torch
in her hand. She took the torch near the face of every
one of the bodies, watched it carefully and then moved
away to another spot. At places a body lay under the
carcass of a horse. The young woman would there lay
down the torch on the ground, remove the carcass with
both hands and recover the body. When she found
however that it was not what she was looking for, she
would take up the torch and go elsewhere. She thus
CHAPTER VII
193
searched the whole field, but could nowhere find what
she wanted. She then threw down the torch, dropped
herself on the ground smeared with blood and spread
with dead bodies and wept bitterly. It was Santi ; she
was looking for Jivananda's body.
She was thus weeping when a sweet and gentle voice
reached her ear ; somebody said, " Rise, mother, do not
weep." Santi looked up and saw standing before her
in the moonlight the wonderful figure of a saint with
a head full of clotted hair.
Santi stood up. The saint said : " Don't weep,
mother. I shall look out Jivananda's body for you."
Then the great man took Santi to the middle of the
field where innumerable dead bodies were thrown upon
one another in a heap. Santi had not been able to re-
move them all. That most powerful man removed the
heap of the dead and dragged out one. Santi knew
that it was Jivananda's body, scarred with wounds and
smeared with blood. Santi cried aloud like a common
woman.
He said, " Don't weep mother. Are you sure
Jivananda is dead ? Just examine his body with care.
First feel the pulse."
Santi felt the pulse, there was not the slightest
quickness in it. The saint said, " Feel the chest with
your touch.' Santi did it but there was no beating there,
all was cold.
He then said, " Feel the nostrils and see if there is
the slightest breath."
13
194
THE ABBEY OP BUSS
Santi did so — there was nothing to be felt. The saint
said : " See again, put your finger into the mouth and
see if there is any warmth there. 5 ' Santi did as she
was bid and answered " I cannot quite feel if there is."
She had been lured into a half-belief by hope.
The saint touched the body with his left hand and
said : " You have been stunned by fear and can't feel it.
I think some heat is left yet in the body. Feel once
again."
Santi again felt the pulse and found that it was
stirring. Astonished, she put her hand on the breast, —
the heart was beating. She felt for the breath and
found that there was some motion. There was also
some warmth in the mouth. She was astonished and
said, " Was life really left or has it come anew ? "
" That can never be ," " he answered ; " could you
carry him to the bank of the pond there. I am a
physician, I shall treat him."
Santi carried Jivananda with ease and took him to
the water. The physician said : " Take him to the tank
and wash away the blood. I am coming with some
medicine." Santi did as she was bid and the physician
shortly arrived with a paste made of wild plants and
creepers. He applied the preparation to the sores and
then passed his hand over Jivananda's body for some
time. Jivananda then sat up with a sigh and asked
Santi : " Who have won the fight ?"
" Yours has been the victory," replied Santi : " Make
your obeisance to this great man."
CHAPTER VII
195
They both looked for him, but )o ! no one was there,
The triumphant shouts of the victorious army were
heard close by, but neither Santi nor Jivananda rose
to go. She stood still on the steps of the tank shining
under the full-moon above. Jivananda grew well very
shortly under the influence of the healing balm, and
said, " Santi, the effect of the physician's drug is
wonderful. I have no more got any pain or discomfort
in my body ; I am prepared to go where you choose.
Hark, there are the triumphal shouts of the Children !"
" None of that, any more," replied Santi. " Our
Mother's work is done and the country has come under
the sway of the Children. We don't want to share the
sovereignty, why then should we go there any more?"
" That which we have taken by force," said Jiva-
nanda, " we have to keep by force."
" For that there is Mahendra and Satyananda him-
self," replied Santi. " To expiate your transgression you
laid down your body for the benefit of your faith. The
Children have no more any claim on your revived life.
To the Children^ we are dead. If they see us returning
now they will say 'Jivananda fled for fear of life at the
time of the battle and now that we are victorious, he
has come to share our spoils."
" You mean to say," said Jivananda, " that we shall
forbear doing our duty for fear of scandal ! Service of
the Mother is my duty and I will do it no matter what
people may say."
" To that you have no claim," said Santi, " for, you
196
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
have sacrificed your body in the service of your mother-
land. If you can serve her still, your expiation be-
comes nugatory. To be deprived of the pleasure of
the service is the greater part of the expiation. For
the rest, it is not a very great thing for anybody to
give up the trifle that life is."
" Santi, yours it is to dive into the essence of things,"
said Jivananda ; " I shall not leave my sacrifice incom-
plete. My greatest joy is in my noble creed and I will
deny myself its pleasure. But where can I go ? It is
out of question to renounce the Children's mission only
to enjoy the pleasures of home life 1"
" That's not what I should ask you to do," she
replied. " We can no more be householders. We shall
be ascetics like this for ever and keep for ever the vow
of virginity. Come, let us now go about visiting the
shrines."
" What when we have done that ?" enquired
Jivananda.
" After that we shall build ourselves a hut on the
Himalayas, worship our God, and ask for the blessing
that good may be our Mother's share."
Then the two rose and departed, hand in hand, — to
eternity it would seem — in the dead of thatjmoonlit
night.
Oh Mother ! would they come again ? Would you
ever bear again a son like Jivananda and a daughter
like Santi ?
Chapter VIII
After the battle Satyananda retired to the Abbey
without speaking a word to anybody. At dead of night,
he was there engaged in deep meditation in the temple
of Vishnu when the physician put in his appearance in
the room. Seeing him Satyananda stood up and made
his obeisance.
" Satyananda/' said the physician, " to-day is the
full-moon day of Magh !"
" Yes," said Satyananda, " and I am ready to follow
you. But sire, please explain to me the one thing that
puzzles me, Why does the command to desist come
to me at just the moment when I have won a victory
and made the glory of the True Faith free from
obstacles ? "
The new-comer said : " Your mission has been ful-
filled, the Mussulman rule has come to an end. You
have nothing more to do now. It's no use killing people
in vain."
"Yes, the Mussulman rule has come to an end, but
the power of the Hindus have not yet been established.
The English are still powerful at Calcutta."
" The Hindu rule will not be established now. You
will only cause needless bloodshed by staying on."
Satyananda was stung with sharp anguish at these
words. " Sire," he said, " who is then to become the
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
sovereign if it is not the Hindus? Is it the Mussulman
that will return to power ? "
Tears flowed down the cheeks of Satyananda.
Looking up to the image of the Motherland above, he
folded his hands and, in a voice choked with grief, said :
" Alas Mother, with all my devotion, I have failed to
save thee. Again will you fall into the hands of infidels.
Mother, forgive thy child for its failings. Alas ! why
did I not fall in the battle-field to-day ?
" Satyananda." said the physician, " Grieve not. In
your delusion, you have won your victories with the
proceeds of robbery. A vice never leads to good conse-
quences and you may never expect to save your country
by a sinful procedure. And, really, what will happen
now will be for the best. There is no hope of a revival
of the True Faith if the English be not our rulers.
Listen to me and I shall explain the position to you
as great men have understood it. The True Faith does
not consist in the worship of 330 million deities ; that
is only a base religion of the masses. Under its influ-
ence the True Faith, which Mlecchas call Hinduism,
has disappeared. The true Hinduism is based on
knowledge and not on action. This knowledge is of two
kinds, subjective and objective. The subjective know-
ledge is the essential part of the True Faith, but till
you have objective knowledge the subjective knowledge
can never grow. Till you know the gross matter you
cannot know the subtle spirit. It is very long now
since objective knowledge has disappeared from our
CHAPTER VIII
199
country ; and with it has vanished the True Religion
too. To revive it therefore you have first to disseminate
objective knowledge. We have not now got the
knowledge in this country, nor are there men to impart
it, for we are not skilful in educating people. There-
fore, objective knowledge must be imported from else-
where. The English are great in objective sciences
and they are apt teachers. Therefore, the English
shall be made our sovereign. Imbued with a know
ledge of objective sciences by English education
our people will be able to comprehend subjective truths.
Then there would no difficulties to the spread of the
True Faith ; — it will then shine forth of itself. Till that
is so, till the Hindus are great again in knowledge
virtue and power, till then the English rule will remain
undisturbed. The people will be happy under them
and follow their own religion without hindrance. You
are wise ; consider all these, desist from fight with the
English and follow me.
" Sire," said Satyananda, " if it is your will that the
English shall become our ruler, if it is really good for
the country at this hour to be under English rule, why
then did you employ me in this cruel warfare ? "
" The English," said the great man, "fire now traders
and are unwilling to take charge of the administration.
They will have to do it however, as the result of this
rebellion of the Children ; for without doing so, they will
see, they cannot raise money. The rebellion was raised,
only that the English might be initiated into sovereignty.
200
THE ABBEY OF BLISS
Come with me now to gain knowledge and you will
understand all this yourself."
"I have no desire to gain knowledge" returned Satya-
nanda, te I have nothing to do with knowledge. I shall
pursue the mission that I have undertaken. Bless me,
that my devotion to the Mother may remain unabated."
" Your mission has been fulfilled ; you have done
good to your Mother and established the English rule.
Give up fighting, let people engage themselves in agri-
culture, and the country overflow with crops and flourish.
Fire flashed from Satyanandas eyes. " I will soak
the earth" he said, "with the blood of enemies and
fertilise it ! "
" Where is the enemy now ? There is none. The
English are a friendly power, and no one, in truth, has
the power to come off victorious in a fight with the
English."
<( If that is so, I shall sacrifice my life before this
image of the Mother."
" In ignorance ? Why, come with me and you will
have light. There is a temple of the Mother on the
Himalayas ; from there I shall show you the Mother's
form."
So saying the great man took Satyananda by the
hand. What a lovely sight that was ! The two great
and radiant forms holding each other's hand in the dim
light of that solemn chamber and before the noble
image of Vishnu. It was as if, knowledge took the
hand of Devotion, Faith of Action ; sacrifice, of active
CHAPTER VIII
201
Duty, Kalyani of Santi ! This Satyananda was Santi
and the great man Kalyani ! Satyananda was Active
Duty and the great man Sacrifice. Sacrifice took away
Active Duty.
Appendix I
SANNYASI REBELLION
You will hear of disturbances committed by the
Sannyasis, or wandering Fakeers, who annually infest
the province, about this time of the year in pilgrimages
to Jaggarnaut going in bodies of it_00 and sometimes
even 10,000 men. An officer of reputation (Captain
Thomas) lost his life in an unequal attack upon a party
of these banditti about 3000 of them, near Rungpore
with a small party of Pergona Sepoys, which has made
them more talked of then they deserve. The revenue,
however, has felt the effects of their ravages in the
northern districts. The new establishment of Sepoys
which is now forming on the plan enjoined by the Court
of Directors and the distribution of them ordered for the
internal protection of the provinces, will, I hope, effec-
tually secure them hereafter from these incursions, —
Hastings to Sir George Colebrooke — dated 2nd February
! 7TJ — Gleig's Momoirs Vol. 1282.
Our own province has worn something of a warlike
appearance, this year, having been infested by a band of
Sannyasis, who have defeated two small parties of Pur-
gunnah Sepoys (a rascally corps) and cut off the two
officers who commanded them. One was Captain
Thomas whom you know. Four battalions of the brigade
Sepoys are now in pursuit of them, but they will not
stand any engagement and have neither camp equipage,
nor even clothes, to retard their flight. Yet I hope we
shall yet make an example of some of them as they are
shut in by rivers which they cannot pass when closely
pursued.
II
The history of the people is curious. They inhabit or
rather possess the country lying south of the hills of
Tibbet from Caubul to China. They go mostly naked,
they have neither towns, houses, nor families ; but rove
continually from place to place recruiting their number
with the healthiest children they can steal in the countries
through which they pass. Thus they are the stoutest and
the most active men in India. Many are merchants. They
are all pilgrims and held by ail castes of Gentoos in great
veneration. This infatuation prevents our obtaining any
intelligence of their motions or aid from the country
against them,, notwithstanding very rigid orders which
have been published for these purposes, in so much that
they often appear in the heart of the province as if they
dropt from heaven. They are hardy, bold and enthus-
iastic to a degree surpassing credit. Such are the
Sannyassis, the Gipsies of Hindustan.
We have dissolved all the purgunah Sepoys and
fixed stations of the brigade Sepoys on our frontiers,
which are to be employed only in the defence of the
provinces, and to be relieved every three months. This
I hope will secure the peace of the country against future
irruptions, and as they are no longer to be employed in
the collections, the people will be freed from the oppres-
sions of our own plunderers. Hastings to Josias Du
Prer-ptk March, i-jy^.
We have lately been much troubled here by hordes
of desperate adventurers called Sannyasis, who have
overrun the province in great numbers and committed
great depredations. The particulars of these disturbances
and of our endeavours to repel them you will find in our
general letters and consultations, which will acquit the
Government of any degree of blame from such a
calamity. At this time we have five battalions of Sepoys
in pursuit of them, and I have still hopes of exacting
ample vengeance for the mischief they have done us, as
they have no advantage over us but in the speed with
Ill
which they fly from us. A minute relation of these
adventures can not amuse you, nor indeed are they of
great moment, for which reason give me leave to drop
the subject, and lead you to one in which you can not
but be most interested, &c. Hastings to Purling — dated
31st March — 7775 — para 1 Gleigs Memoirs of Hastings
—267 Vol.1.
In my last I mentioned that we had every reason to
suppose the Sannyasi Fakeers had entirely evacuated
the Company's possesions. Such were the advices I then
received, and their usual progess made this highly pro-
bable. But it seems they were either disappointed in
crossing the Burramputrah river, or they changed their
intention, and returned in several bands of about 2000
or 3000 each, appearing unexpectedly in different parts
of the Rungpoor and Dinagepoor province. For in spite
of the strictest orders issued and the severest penalties
threatened to the inhabitants in case they fail in giving
intelligence of the approach of the Sannyasies, they are
so infatuated by superstition as to be backward in giving
the information so that the banditti are sometimes
advanced into the very heart of provinces before we
know anything of their motions ; as if they dropt from
heaven to punish the inhabitants for their folly. One of
these parties falling in with a small detachment com-
manded by Captain Edwardes, an engagement ensued
wherein our Sepoys gave way. Captain Edwardes lost
his life in endeavouring to cross a Nullah. This detach-
ment was formed of the worst of our pergauna Sepoys,
who seemed to have behaved very ill. This success elated
the Sannyasies, and I heard of their depredations from
every quarter in those districts. Captain Stewart, with
the nineteenth battalion of Sepoys, who was before
employed against them, was vigilant in the pursuit
wherever he could hear of them, but to no purpose. They
were gone before he could reach the place to which he
was directed. I ordered another battalion from Burram-
IV
poor to march immediately to co-operate with Captain
Stewart, but to act separately in order to have the bet-
ter chance of falling in with them. At the same time I
ordered another battalion to march from the Dinapoor
Station through Tyroot and by the northern frontier of
the Purneah province, following the track which the
Sannyasies usually took, in order to intercept them in
case they marched that way. This battalion after acting
against the Sannyasies, if occasion offered, was directed
to pursue their march to Cooch Behar, where they are to
join Captain Jones and assist in the reduction of the
country.
Several parties of the Sannyasies having entered into
the Purneah province, burning and destroying many
villages there, the Collector applied to Captain Brook
who had just arrived at Panity near Rajmahal, with his
newly raised battalion of light infantry. That officer
immediately crossed the river and entered upon measu-
res against the Sannaysies, and had very near fallen in
with a party of them, just as they were crossing the Cosa
river, to escape out of thatd province. They arrive on
the opposite bank before their rear had entirely crossed,
but too late to do any execution among them. It is
apparent now that the Sannaysies are glad to escape as
fast as they can out of the Company's possession, but I
am still in hopes, that some of the detachments now
acting against them may fall in with some of their parties,
and punish them exemplarily for their audacity.
It is impossible but that on account of the various
depredations which the Sannaysies have committed
that revenue must fall short in some of the company's
districts as well from real as from pretended losses. The
Board of Revenue aware of this last consideration, have
come to the resolution of admitting no pleas for a re-
duction of revenue but such as are attended with cir-
cumstances of conviction : and by this means they hope
to prevent, as much as is in their power, all impositions on
V
the government, and to render the loss to the Company
as inconsiderable as possible. Effectual means will be
used by stationing some small detachments at proper
posts on our frontier to prevent any future incursions
from the Sannyasies Fakeers, or any other roving ban-
ditti, a measure which only the extraordinary audacity
of their last incursion have manifested to be necessary.
This will be effected without employing many troops,
and I hope that in no future time the Sannyasies shall
again suffer from this cause— Hastings to Sir George
Colebrooke— dated 31st March 1773.
The Sannyasies threatened us with the same distur-
bances from the beginning of this year as we experienced
from them the last But by being easily provided to
oppose them, and one or two servere checks which they
received in their first attempt, we have kept the country
clear of them. A party of horse, which we employed
in pursuit of them, has chiefly contributed to intimidate
these ravagers, who seemed to pay little regard to our
Sepoys, having so much the advantage of them in speed,
on which they entirely rely for their safety. It is my inten-
tion to proceed more effectually against them by expelling
them from their fixed residence, which they have estab-
lished in the north eastern quarter of the province, and by
making severe examples of the Zemindars, who have
afforded them protection or assistance — Hastings to
Lawrence— 30th March Iff l.
Appendix II
HISTORY OF THE SANNYASI REBELLION
A set of lawless banditti, wrote the Council in 1773,
known under the name of Sanyasis or Fakirs, have long
infested these countries, and under pretence of religious
pilgrimage, have been accustomed to traverse the chief
part of Bengal, begging stealing and plundering where-
ever they go, and as it best suits their convenience to
practise. In the years subsequent to the famine, their
ranks were swollen by a crowd of starving peasants, who
had neither seed nor implements to recommence cultiva-
tion with, and the cold weather of 1772 brought them
down upon the harvest-fields of Lower Bengal, burning,
plundering, ravaging in bodies of fifty to thousand men.
The Collectors called on the military ; but after a tem-
porary success, our Sepoys were at length totally de-
feated and Captain Thomas their leader with almost the
whole party cut off. It was not till the close of the winter
that the Council could report to the Court of Directors,
that a battalion under an experienced commander had
acted successfully against them,and a month later we find
that even this tardy intima ion had been premature.
On the 31 March, 1774. Warren Hastings plainly
acknowledges that, the commander who had succeeded
Captain Thomas unhappily underwent the same fate ;
that four battalions of the army were then actively
engaged against the banditti, but that in spite of the
militia levies called from the landholders, their combined
operations nan been fruitless. The revenue could not
be collected, the inhabitants made common cause with
VII
the marauders and the whole rural administration was
unhinged; Such incursions were annual episodes in
what some have been pleased to represent as the still
life of Bengal. — Hunters Annals of Rural Bengal —
— P. 77. 2.
Live Music
Archive
Librivox
Free Audio
Metropolitan Museum
Cleveland
Museum of Art
Internet
Arcade
Console Living Room
Open Library
American
Libraries
TV News
Understanding
9/11